Zodiac, Full Circle
by kebzero
Summary: The gundams are gone, but when even more mysteries buried in the past threaten the present and future, the ex-pilots find themselves on a new adventure - or twelve.
1. Prologue

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
Prologue   
  
_Contents/Warnings:_ Not much - some language and violence, mayhap. Perhaps OOC, your call.   
_Pairings:_ Ah, the all-important one... Treize/Une (past), Zechs/Noin - and that's it, but read the AN.   
_Disclaimer:_ They say debt is an asset - but it's one I'd gladly give away. In other words... I don't hold the rights to the GW universe. 

AN: I'm yet again aiming for failure by attempting to please everyone - I'm trying to write this story so that you can read it from a yaoi _or_ non-yaoi viewpoint - it's all in how you emphasize the little things; much like how people view the series itself. I've tried this before, with mixed results - mostly bad. That said, this story - despite what'll show in chapter one - doesn't primarily revolve around the love lives of the gundam pilots, so whichever 'side' you belong to, you'll hopefully still read this thing. Please _don't_ create a big debate over it; that's not my intent here. I just hope I by giving you the warning of duality in this text, don't make you go bonkers by looking for the 'opposition'. ;-) 

As always, any and all feedback is accepted with my gratitudes and platitudes. Doubt the following segments - and I think you can easily guess the approximate number of chapters this thing will have - will be as long(winded) as the first part is. We'll see. Don't know how fast I'll get the next part out, either - all depends on whether anyone wants it or not. But enough of this, on with the story. :-) 

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One of the ceiling tube-lights of the cramped conference room fluttered in and out of working order, much to the annoyance of at least one of the six occupants sitting around the horseshoe-shaped table beneath it. Even so, the six had greater things to worry about. At least, they suspected as much, but had not yet gotten the suspicions confirmed. At one end of the horseshoe, furthest from the only entrance of the tiny room, Duo Maxwell was by no means too bashful to speak his mind. Grabbing his coffee cup with both hands, taking a generous gulp to empty it entirely, he broke the silence of the room by slamming the cup back onto the table. 

"Okay, just where the heck is Lady Une anyway?" 

He looked from face to face, starting with Sally directly across the U-shaped table, then progressing along the arc in rapid succession to Wufei, then Trowa, followed by Heero, and to Quatre at his right hand side, who was the least likely to give an answer, given a sudden giggle-fit the blond obviously tried to choke down and hide behind a covering hand. Duo was unable to see what was so incredibly funny, but was in no mood to ask. His gaze went back to Sally, which after all was the only senior Preventer present. 

"Well?" 

Sally cleared her throat. "Duo, she will probably be here any minute." 

Duo growled slightly, refilling his coffee cup, rubbing an already reddened eye. "All I want to know, is why she called an emergency meeting, and didn't bother to show. I've rushed-" 

Wufei interrupted, his voice calm, but clearly annoyed. "-Rushed here from L2, roused by the crisis beeper in the middle of the night, didn't have time to do anything but run for the first shuttle to Earth. Yes, Duo. We _know_. You've only told us three times already." 

Another sip to clear his mind. "Hey, Une said that beeper was only for incredible emergencies. When I dialed the number and got an answering machine with a message from her saying 'come ASAP', I took it seriously. It's the first time she's ever called me in, anyways. I figured _I_ would be the late arrival, not her. And for the record, I barely had time to put boots and pants on before running like hell to make the flight in time. Got around to breakfast and braiding my hair by the spaceport vending machines, right before boarding." 

Quatre nearly choked on laughter, at last letting it go. Upon Duo's curious, questioning look, he was able to control himself, though his smile was as great as ever. "I guess that explains why you have chocolate stains in your hair, Duo." 

Duo immediately began fidgeting with his hair, trying to affirm Quatre's statement. "What? What do you mean, I've got-" And found affirmation. "Oh, damn it!" He slammed one fist to the table. To his credit, neither further curses, outbursts nor tears followed his frustrating discovery. The rest of the table attempted to cover up their chuckles, albeit they did a poor job. After Duo distributed threatening glares all around, the concealed snickers at last faded away. 

In a vague effort of reconciliation, Quatre placed a hand on Duo's shoulder. "Duo, we're not contesting you had the worst time getting here. You were the only one off-planet, so naturally you had a bit further to go." 

"Not to mention, L2 is the most remote of all the colony clusters, and the one with the least shuttle connections. I swear, I was _this_ close to having to hitch a ride with a cargo hauler, disguising as freight." He let the pinching gesture go in favor of downing what was left of his coffee, trying to wake up fully with a last jolt of caffeine. 

Wufei brushed his brown jacket again, removing another thin layer of recently acquired particles from the Outback. "We're all a bit tired, Duo. Sally and I were in Australia when we got the message." For a moment, his eyes lingered on Duo's cup. "We got some sleep on the flight, though. Why didn't you rest on the flight down?" 

Restless fingers spun the empty cup in circles. "I sat next to a little brat from hell. Damn kid kept wailing his lungs out. If his mother hadn't given him a pacifier after the first few serenades, I don't know what I'd have done. The airlock looked tempting." His light grin faded, as he continued to swirl the porcelain. "That, and... unlike _some_ people, I haven't had any 'fun' since we blew up the gundams five months ago. Quatre has his company, Trowa the circus, you the Preventers... I haven't had anything like that. Ever since Hilde forced our cooperative salvage business to be perfectly legit - well, _mostly_ legit - the fun was sucked right out of it. I couldn't rest on the flight, since I was constantly thinking of what that tiny message Une gave meant." 

Wufei had smirked at first, but turned grave in no seconds flat. "All the vid-mail message the pager referred to said, was to get to the Preventer Headquarters as quickly as we could." 

"Yeah, but what it could offer riled me up. I just couldn't get off the rush it gave me. Still haven't. I just want to _know_, and since she doesn't show, I'm left assuming it wasn't that big a deal anyway." 

As Wufei brushed off his other shoulder, the dust made Sally cough a bit. "Duo..." Another cough. "Lady Une wouldn't summon us - _all_ of us - if it wasn't important. I'm sure she has good reason for being late." 

Duo was about to serve a rebuttal when the tiny door flew open, only to be closed by the mechanism above it. With quick, steady steps, Lady Une went right for the podium at the mouth of the horseshoe-shaped conference table. She put her briefcase at the side of the podium, and her notes atop it. "Sorry for the delay," she said while shuffling her notes, trying to get them in order. "I had to get the latest information from our search teams, as well as make some transport arrangements." Lady Une took one quick look around the audience, eyes lingering just a bit at Duo's disheveled appearance; from the crumpled pants and the un-tucked shirt sticking out from under the black jacket to the loosening stained braid. "I'm sure you all have questions about me pushing the alarm button and calling you all here, but I'd appreciate it if you would let me finish this briefing first." With the flick of a few switches, the lights - including the still blinking one - dimmed, the projector mounted in the roof came to life, and a screen lowered behind the Lady, to her left. At the push of a button, the white canvas was filled with the image of a rock outcropping. "_This_ is today's problem." 

Duo's face dropped slightly. "A _rock_? You called us here for-" 

"Please, Mr. Maxwell, allow me to finish." Pausing a moment to see that her request was heard, Lady Une continued. "As you might know, following the Mariemeia incident, the Preventer agency was instructed to dig through all old records remaining from the Alliance, OZ, Romefeller, White Fang, P3 and all the rest in an effort to make sure no further skeletons were buried in the archives, ready to turn into new nightmares. For the past five months, many of our agents have been tied up with this paperwork, and two weeks ago, a 24-year-old Alliance document gave us this." She opened her hand at the projected image. "According to the papers we were able to dig up on it, this hillside contains an old R&D facility. We suspect this was where the Alliance - that is, their financial managers and later suppliers of weaponry; the Romefeller Foundation - developed the mobile suits. The relative proximity of the main Leo mobile suit factory adds to this suspicion. Now, the factory was one of the first facilities attacked and destroyed during the war..." Duo coughed, grinning. The Lady continued, producing a new image on the canvas; a close-up of the hillside, showing the vague outline of two great blast doors designed to blend seamlessly with the surroundings. Indeed, whoever had built it had done a splendid job. "This was overlooked, however. According to the documents, this base was abandoned nearly two decades ago, not long after the Leo went into production. Most likely, they moved most of the equipment to the new factory. Normally, we would simply dispatch demolition teams after scouring the place. However, we have not been able to access this facility yet. The first survey showed a complex trigger mechanism rigged to the doors. We then tried to determine just what the trigger was connected to. The initial scan of the mountain produced this." Une clicked the podium button again, and a see-through view of the initial hillside shot appeared, light reddish-brown rock parting to show a massive black cube behind the immense blast doors. 

"Whatever the inner chamber walls are composed of, they do not allow any of our scans to penetrate. Infrared, ultraviolet, radio wave - nothing gets through. What we found on the _outside_ of the inner chamber, was the reason for alarm." Another click shifted to a new close-up. One scan showed what looked like a barrel surrounded by dynamite sticks. "The outside of the complex walls is littered with these. It appears they have stacked vast amounts of explosives on all sides. That in itself wouldn't be so bad. It would simply level the facility, something that doesn't bother us much. However, these barrels are _radioactive_. No, the place isn't littered with nuclear bombs. We suspect they contain reactor waste or other spent material. It would contribute little to the explosion itself, but greatly to contamination. It would turn all dust released in the blast radioactive, and there are quite a few cities downwind of the mountain. This has led us to abandon attempts to break in. We need to find the key - and _that_ is where you come in." 

The entire table remained silent. Duo downed yet another cup of coffee recently refilled, at last emptying the coffee can, and in the process leaving the slightly flustered rebuttal to Wufei. "Are you saying that you've simply lost a little key, and can't pick the lock?" 

"The door mechanism is not an ordinary lock, Mr. Chang. In fact, it's a highly complex device." She paused just long enough to push the button again. "Hidden by some overgrown bushes by the blast doors, we found this panel." On the screen, a square plastic column with a console at the top was displayed, one side panel removed, revealing the wired intestines. The console itself had a ring-shaped groove in it, as well as some buttons and light switches. "The key to this mechanism is to fit in that groove. Our engineers have been able to determine the console emits light bursts and radio signals from within the sides of the groove when activated, and suspect this is to interact with the circular key. The key ring is rather large; about a foot in diameter. Though we could try recreating the key, we wouldn't know how to respond to the input from the console. There is also a matter of-" Lady Une presented a close-up of the groove. "-pressure sensors. As you can see, there are patterns engraved in the groove, and these must also be pushed in. It is our belief that failure to do all of these things correctly, could trigger the mechanism, which is why we have not dared experiment on it yet. We want to find the key." 

Heero squinted at the canvas. "Those images look familiar." 

Lady Une presented a new image, the carvings of the groove in clearer detail, and mirrored. Eight animals, three humans, a scale, an overflowing water jar and a taut bow and arrow. "Does this make it any clearer?" 

"That's a zodiac, isn't it?" 

"Correct, Mr. Yuy. It appears the architect for this place - evidently also the chief engineer for this place - had an affection for astrology. The names of the mobile suits also reflect this. According to the documents, his name was Herbert Ziegler. He led the development of the mobile suits - including the construction team your five scientists were part of. It was he who determined the prototype Leo - the Tallgeese - was much too expensive and not versatile enough for mass production. He designed the simpler Leo mobile suit after your five mentors left in the wake of the Yuy assassination. Mr. Ziegler was also highly involved in the early stages of development of the Pisces and Aries suits, and we believe his ideas and designs formed the basis for the later development of the Cancer, Taurus and Virgo suits. This leads me to speculate on what the factory might contain. From what we have been able to surmise from the ancient paperwork so far, Mr. Ziegler was most opposed to moving operations to the new factory, and remained with a small staff in the mountain complex for at least three years after it was supposedly closed, using back-channel funding and siphoning resources from the main factory as needed. At that time, Romefeller had had enough of this, and cut off all funding to Mr. Ziegler's research. The mountain was sealed shortly after, and Mr. Ziegler was last reported traveling to the L3 cluster. We have found no further records on him or his projects so far, but the piles of paper to read through are immense, and we have barely begun." 

During the last few minutes, Quatre had stared quite intently at the circle on the screen. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Lady Une - but what are the small black lines between the zodiac symbols, and what are those little nubs at the inside of the ring?" 

Lady Une turned to the canvas. "You have a good eye, Mr. Winner. I was getting to that. The ring mechanism is, in addition to being quite complex, also dividable. Each of the zodiac symbols can be detached from the whole. The 'nub' on the inside is actually a tiny ring through which you can thread a string, making the symbol look like an amulet. Let me show you." The full zodiac was replaced by a single, stout bull, trapped in a triangular amulet, small black cord strung through the nub at the narrow end, which would make the bull hang upside down should it ever be worn as a necklace. 

"Now, we don't know what the abandoned facility contains. For all we know, it could be anything from a discarded gundam project, a group of old Leos, design plans for new mobile suit models, explosives - or nothing at all. We _do_ know that there are access ways through the inner walls to the explosives caches on the outside though, and _that_ is why we want the key. The mountain has been sealed off from the public, and the site is kept secure by Preventer agents. If word gets out, we might have 'curious' people trying to gain entry to the vault - something which would be very bad indeed. Also, the explosives surrounding the radioactive barrels are aging, and can only get more unstable with time, which is why we can't leave it alone. If we are unable to find Ziegler's entire key, we might have to evacuate the nearby cities, and try to disarm the trigger mechanism - but I wouldn't want to order something like that until all other options are exhausted. Creating mass hysteria is not on the Preventer agenda. I've had to inform the President's office, of course, but beyond that, only a handful of people know about the existence of this structure - and I wish to keep it that way. Preventer resources are stretched thin as they are. Most of our agents are either busy elsewhere, tied up guarding the mountain, or digging through the paper trails of old documents. I'm counting on you to find the pieces of the key." 

Heero leaned in slightly over the table, elbows down, hands folded. "What makes you believe the key has been split up?" 

"We have spoken with one of the engineers that worked at this facility. Though he moved to the other factory at the time official funding was cut, he was later approached by Mr. Ziegler, and given one of the twelve pieces. At that point, only two more pieces remained, one of which he saw Mr. Ziegler give to one of their former test pilots, who was working as a mechanic at the new factory at the time. Mr. Ziegler had told them both to keep the token safe until he 'called for a reunion of the old gang'. The engineer believed the mountain facility had been destroyed. Indeed, most Alliance and Romefeller records indicated as much, except the beyond top secret ones." 

Heero straightened up. "Will we be allowed to question the engineer?" 

"I arranged for him to be flown here at his earliest convenience. He should be here shortly." Lady Une flicked more switches, shutting down the projector, retracting the screen, and brightening the light, still malfunctioning lighting tube blinking as furiously as ever. 

Duo had just opened his mouth to ask who the engineer was, when the door opened, and the answer presented itself. There, standing in the doorway, blank dome compensated with dark sunglasses and horizontal hair, dressed as the accidental Hawaiian tourist in a cheap colorful shirt, well-worn shorts and dusty sandals, was none other than Howard. 

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-end prologue- 

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Aquarius, part one

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
Aquarius, part one   


AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue. 

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"Why me?" Duo muttered to himself, surveying the chocolate stains in his hair aided by the spaceport's restroom mirror. His braid was undone, and he was currently preoccupied using moistened paper towels from the broken and shattered dispenser - a state obtained when it tried to deny a frustrated former gundam pilot its contents - to remove the sticky substance from the strains of his exuberant mane. While some progress was made, it more often than not smudged the stains out further. Carefully soaking a few more paper towels under the bathroom spring, Duo continued the ad-hoc clean-up. Amidst it all, his mind started wandering, thinking how it had been only a dozen hours since he had been roused from his sleep by the crisis beeper Lady Une had given him months ago. The adrenaline rush and later all the cups of coffee he had poured down his throat had kept him going, but he still felt dead tired. And now he found himself going straight back where he came from; back to the L2 cluster. Needless to say, Duo was a tad frustrated. 

Howard hadn't been able to tell much, partly because of his shoddy memory, partly because of the high level of secrecy that always strangled the development environment in the mountain lab, and partly because he simply didn't know. "Ziegler kept to himself most of the time," he had said, "especially towards the end. None of us really knew what he was doing in the last three years. When the Alliance finally pulled the plug in '78, Ziegler was the only one still working at the lab. The rest of us had moved to the factory." Howard had continued giving as many details as he could - which weren't many, nor very useful. Lady Une had already asked him what he knew of the twelve tokens, and Howard gladly repeated what little he knew. "Ziegler was very proud of that key. Called it his 'major work of small-scale engineering'. From what Lady Une told me, his bragging might be justified. He didn't install it until after most of us had moved though, so none of us ever had the chance to study it in detail. Anyway, the last time I saw the key, there were only three pieces of it left. He gave me one, told me to keep it as a memento, and keep it safe until he arranged for a reunion. Out of respect for the man, I accepted. A few days later, I ran into some trouble with the Alliance brass, and left for L2. Professor G had offered me a job when he and the other scientists left the research lab in '75 following arguments with Ziegler and the Yuy assassination. I figured it was time to accept." Howard had chuckled a bit after that, momentarily shooting a glance at Duo, and quickly sweeping the rest of the table. "I guess I've always been drawn to oddballs, like minds and all." 

Duo splashed some water in his face in an effort to combat drowsiness. Temporarily successful, he returned to cleaning his hair and his recollections of what little Howard had to say. The old engineer had seen Ziegler hand another piece to one of their veteran test pilots, overhearing a conversation similar to what he and Ziegler had had minutes earlier. The last piece had remained with Ziegler, for all Howard knew. Quatre had been quick to brighten up at the news, assuming Howard still had his piece of the Zodiac key. Unfortunately, he didn't. During the evacuation of the _Peacemillion_, it had been left in his quarters. For this exact reason, Duo was, along with Heero, heading home to the L2 cluster. The colonies of L2 were renown for their scavenger-like culture, and the recycling and dismantling of the _Peacemillion_ and _Libra_ wreckage had fallen to them quite easily. While L3 had also made a bid for the job, L2's location - hidden behind the moon - made the sale much easier to the Earth delegations, as the moon would take the brunt of impact should the wreckage drift, unlikely as that might be. For the other colonies, the allocation of the job to L2 was seen as a fair 'aid package'. L2 was easily - as it had always been - the most run-down and impoverished colony cluster. 

As for the rest of the team, Quatre and Trowa were heading for L3, tracing the last known steps of Ziegler. Alliance travel records from the restriction days marked him going to L3, but no papers on him leaving there was to be found. Wufei and Sally were trying to find the test pilot given the other token, and Lady Une had returned to digging in old records, trying to find clues to the whereabouts of the remaining nine key pieces. Personnel records had become her main angle of attack following Howard's information. Apparently, Ziegler had been careful to seek out people who would hold on to the little part-key amulet, but who didn't care enough to seek out the other pieces. 

The restroom door swung open as Heero entered, two slips of paper in hand. Duo shook his hands dry, and threw the rest of the wet paper towels away. The stains were more or less gone, but in return his hair was anything but dry. Trained fingers quickly braided it, attaching an elastic band at the end. "I take it you got the tickets?" 

Heero nodded. "Our shuttle leaves in ten minutes. Get moving." He turned on his heel, and stepped out. Duo scooped up his little traveling bag, consisting of assorted items he had tossed in there during his rapid departure nary half a day before, and walked after Heero. The former Wing pilot set a brisk pace for the shuttle gateway, and at times Duo found himself nearly running to keep up, both of them darting through the crowded spaceport in the chase. Duo's slight inability to keep up _could_ have been related to how his mind raced, from thinking of how he was to trick Heero to give him the window seat, to frustration that his hair was partly soaked, even if free from chocolate stains, train of thought ending with a sigh considering how simple targets most of the airport crowd would have been had he still been a pickpocket. Preoccupied, he didn't notice Heero had abruptly stopped fast enough, running straight into him, causing both to lose their footing, and falling. Faced yet again by Heero's hard yet familiar glare, Duo flashed his most disarming grin, evading trouble yet again. Back on their feet, and meager belongings picked up, Heero grabbed Duo's wrist, dragging him the few steps left to their flight's gateway. The flight attendant was just about to close the gateway door, taken a bit by surprise by the late disheveled arrivals, but was able to give a friendly service smile when Heero handed her the tickets, motioning them to get aboard. 

The shuttle was nearly empty. This was not a complete surprise, given that L2 was neither a prime tourist nor business location, and the people there usually weren't well enough off to afford frequent trips through space. When they did, it was usually for a vacation in one of the many resorts at the moon; a quick reprieve to temporarily forget the hardships of their everyday lives. 

An elderly gentleman was softly snoring in one of the front row seats at the right side, sound somewhat muffled by the brown hat resting over his face. A few rows back, on the left side, a toddler and her mother were arguing over issues such as sitting still, being quiet and attaching the safety strap as the flight attendant instructed, something the little girl was far from willing to do. She was much too busy gawking to the seats further back on the right side, where a couple in their mid-twenties were significantly preoccupied with one another, engaged in a serious state of lip-lock. The little veil of transparent white strapped on the blonde lady's head and the gentleman's clip-on tie attested to their errand. Duo assumed they were heading for the Luna resorts for a honeymoon, only using L2 as a transit point. Given the cheap tickets to L2, it wasn't unheard of to do this, even though most people preferred direct flights, not to mention staying away from L2 altogether. 

Finding their left side seats, conveniently distant from the remaining passengers, Duo gave Heero his bag. "Could you put this up in the compartment? Thanks." 

Unfazed, Heero complied out of courtesy. However, Duo only asked so he could steal the window seat while Heero was busy - which he did. Not that Heero noticed, or cared. His mind was already lost in the mission; the glazed look gave that away much too easily. 

At the very front of the cabin, stuck between the two rows of doubled seats, one of the flight attendants gave quick last-minute instructions on how the passengers were to strap themselves in. Obviously, she did it strictly out of protocol, as all the seven passengers, including the sleeping senior citizen and the hyperactive girl, were already secured in their seats long before her speech was even halfway through. Moments later, she was gone, and the shuttle began moving, engines powering up. The sleek machine taxed slowly out to the end of the launchway, lined itself up to face the sharply inclining black spike ahead; the veritable springboard to the heavens. As the engines howled to their greatest extent and the shuttle raced forward toward the spike, the little girl laughed with glee, and the senior citizen up front was roused from his slumber, though he remained untroubled. If anything, it showed the man was an experienced traveler, knowing that the shudders of the craft was nothing to worry about, nor the sudden tilt the shuttle got upon reaching the spike, pushing its passengers far into the soft seats as the nose of the craft pointed steadily more upwards. The honeymoon couple however, were evidently not frequent fliers, as the young lady's solid grips, one hand clasped around the arm of the chair, the other around the hand of her husband. Of course, the man returned the grip as panicky as he received it, not too fearless of the unfamiliar method of travel himself. 

Heero and Duo barely noticed the take-off. Duo made himself a challenge by watching out the tiny window, trying to see as much of the cloudscape quickly drifting by as he could without getting nauseous. Heero glared into the seat before him, eyes dulled over by his thoughts, already projecting possible means of acquiring their objective; the little amulet Howard had abandoned. The clouds and blue outside was replaced by ever more black, and Duo brought his attention away from the window again, satisfied he had not needed the vomit bags despite the fact his head was spinning ever so slightly. He unbuckled the safety straps with almost no problems whatsoever, merely struggling to identify the right switch of the four he thought he saw spinning before his eyes. 

"So... What's the plan, Heero?" 

Heero kept glaring into the back of the seat before him. "When we get to L2, we go to the closest government office, and ask for entry in the item recovery program." 

For a moment, Duo wondered if the dizziness caused his ears, alternately his brain, to malfunction, as what Heero said didn't make much sense. "The what program?" 

"Item recovery program." This time, Heero turned to give Duo a glare. "I'm surprised you don't know about it. You're the L2 junk peddler, after all." 

Duo's nostrils flared. "Hey, I run a _salvage yard_, thank you very much. One man's junk is another man's treasure, restoration project or spare part. I can take a lot of abuse, but mock my work and I'll hit you, pal." To further mark his point, he raised a fist. 

"Okay," Heero said in his most apologetic tone of voice - which was far from convincing, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that nearly every scr-," he paused before Duo's eyes hardened further, "-salvage yard on L2 is involved on the disassembly of the _Peacemillion/Libra_ wreckage. I figured your little business venture was-" 

Duo opened his fist, open palm waving the thought off. "Yeah, well... See, the L2 provincial government set down strict guidelines for how the work contracts were to be distributed. Hilde and I were not exactly in their proper age group. 'Annoying little brats', I think were the words they used. Regardless, we don't have any zero-g demolition equipment, so we couldn't help dismantle the thing if we wanted to. Couldn't exactly list Deathscythe Hell as the right tool for the job either." Duo grinned at the thought. "Too much publicity, you know. And now it's gone, anyway." A sigh of remembrance later, Duo continued. "Anyway, since almost every other salvage yard got contracts on the _Peacemillion/Libra_ project, there's been plenty of little jobs left to keep Hilde and me afloat. It worked out. Things have a strange way of doing that, don't they?" 

Heero merely gave a slight huff at the idea. After waiting a moment to see if Duo had more to say, he could read the repeat question in Duo's eyes. "When the contract for scrapping the _Peacemillion/Libra_ wreckage was handed to L2, they were also instructed to salvage any personal belongings from the two ships and identify them, if possible. That is what the item recovery program is about. If you left anything aboard either vessel, and want it back, you can apply for it through the program." 

Duo grinned. "Well, that ought to make this assignment a breeze. I mean, we just go there, ask to take a look at Howard's belongings, and that's it." 

"It's not that simple, Duo. First, we don't know if they have catalogued all items. We don't know if Howard's quarters were left undamaged, or marked as Howard's quarters in the first place." 

"Well, we'll know that soon enough. Besides, Howard's little private section was close to the bridge, wasn't it? It should be undamaged from both the collision and the engine blast." 

No answer. Heero resumed his study of the seat before him. 

"Anyway, we'll drop by my salvage yard first, okay? I need to take a shower." Duo tugged on a few loose strands in his braid, which was casually slung over his right shoulder. "Still feels like there's some of that damn chocolate left, and besides, I owe Hilde an explanation for vanishing so suddenly last night. Barely had time to scribble a note with the worlds 'Emergency, back soon' before I made a run for the shuttle." He grinned, looking briefly at the cabin ceiling. "Oh, she'll be _so_ pissed by now." With a flash, he faced Heero again, gently punching the stoic in the shoulder to gain his attention. Success. "Hey, do me a favor. You walk in first, okay? That way, I might avoid some of the loose objects she'll chuck at me." 

Heero raised an eyebrow, but chose not to question the latter of Duo's statements, assuming it a joke. "Duo, we don't have time for that. We have to get the amulet immediately. We can't-" 

"Oh, don't give me that crap," Duo interrupted. "That little trinket has been waiting for someone to retrieve it for over a year. What's a few more hours going to do? Absolutely nothing, I tell you." With significant effort, he suppressed a yawn, far from unnoticed by his partner. 

"Duo, get some sleep. It'll be hours before we reach the L2 docking point anyway." 

Duo yawned again, not bothering to hide it this time. "Yeah, I guess the coffee is wearing off. Look, I still want to drop by-" 

"Fine," Heero grumbled. "We make a quick stop there, you take a shower, and then we head for the closest L2 government office. Deal?" 

Duo smiled, surprised at the easy victory. "Deal. Thanks, pal." And with that, he rolled over towards the window, closed his eyes and produced a snore rivaling that of the elderly gentleman at the very front of the shuttle. 

------- 

The docking procedure had been completely uneventful, short of the antics the little girl came up with on the arrival, stealing the elderly man's walking cane and using it to trip the honeymooners. As Heero and Duo left the space dock, they could still hear the toddler's mother give off tirades of disciplination. The streets of the L2 colony were not particularly crowded, despite how the artificial lighting indicated it was mid-day. If anything, it furthered the incorrect piece of space lore that most business on L2 was done at night, beyond the watchful eyes of any authorities, legit or otherwise. They had not bothered with getting a cab, as nearly all places within a colony were within walking distance, and they were not bringing heavy luggage. Though Heero had suggested they'd gotten to the salvage yard faster by car, Duo had simply shaken his head, explaining that he knew enough shortcuts through places where cars couldn't go to make the extra expense futile. As they walked, a question unanswered earlier came back to Heero. Even though reluctant to engage in small-talk - especially about something that sounded so trivial - he asked. 

"Is something wrong between you and Hilde?" 

At first taken a bit aback by the question, Duo shrugged. "No, I don't think so. Why?" 

"You said you were expecting her to assault you the minute you got home." 

Duo grinned. "Oh, _that_. Well, it's just that Hilde is like me; she doesn't like to be cut out of the loop when there's adventure and excitement involved. I mean, she knows what I meant when I wrote the note. She'll just be angry I didn't wake her up to tell her myself. Truth be told, I didn't even think about it. Waking her up in the middle of the night has _never_ been a good idea in the past - she has a nasty right-hand swing when she's still morning grumpy." He snickered a bit. "Oh, and don't tell her I said that. No need to make the poor gal more upset than she already is." Duo saw no apparent sign of any reaction whatsoever in Heero's face - not that he had expected to; reading the stoneface mask had become somewhat of a challenge in and of itself over the years, and a strangely welcome one. 

After getting the weakest of grunts of confirmation, Duo continued. 

"Say, did you ever meet Hilde, anyway? I mean, you never came to visit us at L2, not in the interim year before Mariemeia nor in the last five months." 

Barely noticeable, Heero gritted his teeth. "I saw Hilde once, briefly. That was in the sickbay of the _Peacemillion_, when she had come with the information from _Libra_. I wanted to see the courier before I ran out on a note saying Relena was over there, wanted to see her eyes, search for any signs of lies or deception. Never got the chance, as Hilde was near comatose, with wires, tubes and bandages everywhere, and-" He stopped, noticing how the grin had vanished from Duo's face. "Sorry. Shouldn't have brought that up." 

Duo sighed, gave a flash half-smile. "Nah, it's okay. I asked, didn't I?" 

Heero nodded, but said nothing more. If nothing else, he hoped to avoid having to come up with an answer to the second, merely implied, question. The remainder of their stroll was taken in silence, at a quickened pace, through all the narrow passageways and dark alleys Duo led them through. Soon enough, they reached the salvage yard. Piles of metal, plastics and assorted mystery items were all around in the fenced-in lot, making the small building at the center look like some industrial-styled mountain valley cottage. Both the fence and the cottage could do with a paint job, Heero noted. 

"Well, here we are," Duo stated. "It's not much, but it's home." Duo slowed down quite a bit on the last few steps up the walkway. Out of the corner of his eye, Heero could have sworn he saw movement by one of the windows, if for but a second. Duo didn't appear to notice, but even so, he reached out an arm to block Heero, pushing him off to the left side of the walkway, side-stepping the 'welcome' mat by the door himself. Still holding Heero back, he carefully opened the door. "Stay still," Duo grinned. He put his foot in the narrow opening of the door, nudging it open, and not before had he done so, a big, brown sofa cushion came flying out through the door. "Hi, Hilde. Sorry I didn't call or anything, but-" 

Before he got a chance to finish, the front of his shirt and jacket was in a grip of steel, pulling him inside the house, face to face with an angry Hilde. "You big jerk! Why don't you _ever_ bother to tell me when you're going someplace? You _know_ I hate finding out by reading your little notes!" 

Duo nearly laughed, knowing it was all an act. Well, mostly an act. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just that I remember last time I woke you up in the middle of the night. My left eye _still_ hurts." The impish grin widened, waiting for the inevitable rebuttal. 

"You woke me up with a bucket of water that time - I was entitled to-" 

"Oh, come on. It was just a small glass, not a bucket." 

"It was a _big_ glass, and you had added some crushed ice, I'm sure of it! You never-" She stopped, suddenly noticing they weren't alone. In the door frame stood Heero, holding the brown sofa cushion. 

"I think you dropped this..." 

The matter-of-fact tone and completely statue-like face of Heero made it impossible for neither Hilde nor Duo to keep from laughing, their standard argument forgotten, for now. 

"Sorry, Heero - see, Hilde and I like to argue; we do this all the time. Gives us something to do other than sort scrap, you know. Keeps us sharp-witted." Heero appeared unconvinced. "Anyway, Hilde, this is Heero, Heero, this is Hilde." 

Hilde punched Duo in the shoulder to end their argument, and extended a hand to Heero. "Hilde Schbeiker." 

Heero accepted the hand, two quick, firm shakes. "Heero Yuy." 

Duo closed the door, and put an arm around each of the two greeters. "Okay, so we're all friends now. Why don't you two talk or something while I get a shower? I really need to get rid of the chocolate residue." He tugged on his hair again, spun on his heel and fled to the back of the building. 

"Chocolate... No, forget I ever asked," Hilde started, shaking her head. "So, _you_ are Heero Yuy. Duo has told me quite a bit about you over the years. Don't worry, most of it was good stuff. Duo doesn't badmouth people much. Guess that's a side-effect of never lying; being very careful of what you say." 

Heero simply nodded, as social as ever. 

"Why don't we sit down?" Hilde offered, motioning to the small sofa group to which the brown cushion Heero still carried under one arm belonged. Heero put the cushion back into place, and sat down, slowly taking in his surroundings. The small living room was a weird sight; The far side from the door was really a kitchen corner, bench and cupboards acting as a separator between the two sections. Potted plants, bookshelves, posters, paintings and armature covered each wall, making it difficult to determine if there was paint or wallpaper on the walls behind, much less the color of the same. Each item appeared to contrast the one next to it, there was no unity of style whatsoever. In short, the inside of the house matched the yard, even though the yard had at least grouped the bits and pieces in piles. Between an undergrowth of potted cactuses, poinsettias and geraniums, tulips, roses and dandelions in vases amidst ferns stuck just about anywhere, was a small fish tank filled with so many castles, plants, rocks and other decorative artifacts there was hardly room for the few fish hiding from the jungle outside within the safe walls of the largest castle or the oversized repeatedly opening and closing treasure chest at the right side, which occasionally let fresh oxygen into the water. On the walls, hidden between archaic posters easily centuries old, brass lamps ornamented and shaped in ways that could easily be mistaken for lewd, framed drawings that looked as if a two-year-old had run amok with crayons, small pictures of Deathscythe and the yard, below the fake Van Gogh self-portrait and above the dogs playing poker, was a big picture taken at the end of the first war; a picture of all the five pilots standing in front of their battered gundams - though you could only see the feet of the giant machines. The furniture was just as chaotic as the decorations. In short, the room could be described as an interior decorator's personal nightmare - or perhaps dream assignment to fix. 

Apparently, he had let his guard down enough to show a vague expression of surprise during his survey, as Hilde read the very question on his mind. She sat down in a worn out black leather chair, one hand gently caressing the flaking hide on the arm of the chair. She smiled. "Yeah, it's a mess. We know. We like it like this." Heero raised a brow, inquisitive. Hilde continued her explanation. "We can never agree on what to put where, and what to bring in, anyway. In the end, we reached a compromise. Every time I found something I wanted in, Duo could put something of his choice next to it, without me protesting, and the other way around. The result is what you see around you. I figure we have to start fresh again soon." 

The last sentence caught Heero's attention. "Again?" 

Hilde nodded. "Yeah - we've decorated the living room three times this way already. When it overflows, we clear most of it out. Some things stay, of course, but most things end up out in the yard, or in one of the storage closets. All in all, it gives the room character." She smiled. "I guess it scares off visitors, though. It's just... _too_ much sometimes. You should have seen Quatre's expression the first time he visited. He was politeness personified, of course, but the size of his eyes when he entered this room..." She laughed. "Oh, it was priceless. That was right before the first time we decided to start fresh. We had this huge, stuffed moose head stuck on the wall behind you. Moth-eaten, dusty old thing. Don't ask me where Duo managed to find it. Quatre was sitting just about where you're sitting when one of the antlers fell off, barely missing blondie's head. Poor guy nearly jumped two feet in the air. Next time he stopped by, he made a point in sitting in _this_ chair, away from the walls. They say walls have ears, but here at the salvage yard, the walls come after you if you're not careful." She smiled, noting Heero tried his best to look over his shoulder without her noticing, just to make sure no loose artifacts was threatening him. 

"Does Quatre visit you often?" 

She shrugged. "Not really. He's been here a few times, mostly combined with business trips. Of all of you pilots, he's the one I've seen most often, though. That tall guy... Trowa...? stopped by when the circus toured L2 last fall. The uptight one with the tight ponytail visited a few months ago. Said he wanted to speak to Duo on matters relating to a Preventer case here at the L2 cluster. I think it was all smoke and mirrors - he just wanted someone to talk to, and Duo is known for being chatty." 

Heero accepted the information, one curt nod in reply. 

"How come you never visited us before, Heero? Duo talks more about you than any of the others. I kinda got the impression you two were good friends." 

Heero closed his eyes for but a second, and smirked slightly. "Friends... Yeah, I guess we _are_ friends." 

Silence. 

Slightly impatient, Hilde angled for an answer. "So? How come you haven't visited us?" 

Heero shrugged. "I don't know. Never really crossed my mind, I guess." 

Though convinced that was less than the whole truth, Hilde chose not to come off as pushy, dropping the issue. From the other end of the house, the sound of running water could be heard. They looked at each other, both smiling, albeit Heero's was very reserved compared to Hilde's. "Sounds like it might still be a while before Duo is ready to leave. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water...?" 

Heero shook his head. "No thanks." 

"Are you sure?" she asked, already out of her chair. "It's no bother, really. I was planning to get something for myself, anyway." 

"No thanks, I really don't need-" Heero stopped short, noticing an old document lying on the black-and-white checkered wooden table of the bizarre living room, coffee stain circles showing how someone - probably Duo - had used it for a makeshift coaster. Of course, it was the letterhead that caught Heero's attention, denoting the paper as a letter sent by the L2 provincial government. He picked it up, but other than the letterhead, the typing had become illegible through all the stains and folds. "What's this?" he asked, handing the soaked letter to Hilde. 

Hilde accepted it, giving up on reading beyond the letterhead nearly as quickly as Heero. "Oh, this is probably just one that sneaked out from the paperwork stacks. We get a bunch of letters associated with business practices, both general and scrap salvage related stuff. I try to keep it all organized and away from Duo. He likes to show his disrespect for all forms of authority any way he can, I'm sure you've noticed that." 

Heero smirked again, nodding. "Do you get many such letters?" 

She shrugged. "We get enough. Most don't really concern us, like all the ones we got last year relating to the dismantling and recycling the huge mess of space debris you boys made during the fighting." 

"The wreckage of _Peacemillion_ and _Libra_?" 

Hilde nodded. "That, and a bunch of drifting, ruined mobile suits and who knows what else. Guess the local government has all the salvage yards on one big mailing list, since we get all this extra paperwork thrown at us. We get some of the small-stuff business, but the big contracts won't go to this little yard. Not that it matters, Duo and I get by." 

"He told me as much earlier." He paused, for but a second hesitating if he wanted to involve Hilde in his and Duo's assignment, even if remotely. "Can I take a look at those documents - the ones relating to the _Peacemillion_ salvage job?" 

Again, she shrugged. "Yeah, I guess... Wait here, I'll go get them." 

With that, she walked through the little kitchen corner of the living room and out to the hallway at the back of the house. Heero sat there in silence, for the first time noticing a faint, sweet smell. It took him a while to notice the small incense bowl parked on top of an old piece of plastic garden furniture, cut around the edges to make the table resembling a pedestal. It had obviously been a while since it was last used, but the smell lingered in the closed space. He could hear the shower turning off, leaving the sole background sound to be the distant shuffling of papers. A few minutes later, Hilde returned, a handful of documents in her hands. 

"Here. I think I got most of them. What do you need them for, anyway?" 

Heero accepted the stack of papers. He sensed she had already figured the answer, but decided against candor. "Just wanted to read up on it. Wanted to see how the L2 government handled the little bit of charity business they got." 

Hilde had crossed her arms, looking anything but convinced. Still, she didn't want to make a fuss about it. She knew well enough that whatever the two boys were up to, she would probably never find out. "Look... Heero, I'm not dumb. I don't know how much you know about me - I don't think you know anything at all about me, since you don't even speak to your friends - but I'm not going to buy _that_ poor excuse. This has something to do with the beeper call Duo got last night, that I'm sure of." Heero was about to cut in, mouth already open, but Hilde continued. "I can understand that you don't want to involve me, and I'm sure Duo wouldn't want to either. That's fine, I can live with that. You don't trust me enough yet, and Duo is just afraid I'll get hurt again like I did when I brought you guys the information on _Libra_. I keep telling him it's unjustified, but when he switches to protective mode..." 

She shrugged, sighing. "Heero, I just have one more thing to say - make sure Duo is safe, okay? Une wouldn't page the both of you for some little thing, she has her own agents for that. As much as I'd like to stop Duo from heading into danger again - not that I think I _could_, even if I tried - I don't want to, not this time. For the last few months, Duo has been really depressed. Maybe out of boredom, I don't know - his whole life has been a rollercoaster, and I'm not sure he's able to adjust to a quiet life and a day job, as much as he tries to. I haven't seen him this fired up about anything for quite a while, and I wouldn't want to take that away from him. Just - just make sure he doesn't get hurt, okay?" 

Ever so slowly, Heero took in her words, at last nodding, accepting this additional mission. Not that he had planned to deliberately get Duo hurt, anyway. Not _really_, unless the braided menace pulled some nasty practical joke on him - something he deemed not entirely unlikely, judging from past experiences. 

With a thin smile, Hilde gave a nod in reply and stepped into the kitchen corner, intent on getting the quarrelsome, old coffee-maker working. As he skimmed through document after document, Heero absentmindedly registered the sounds of success; a hissing heating element, trickles of warm water droplets, clinks as cups were taken from the cupboard. By the time Hilde returned to the leather chair with her coffee cup, Heero was lost in one of the few documents dealing with the item recovery program, studying it very closely. Hilde took a sip of coffee, smiling softly, amused by Heero's far gone expression. 

"I guess you found something interesting?" 

Abruptly returned from whatever far place his mind was at, Heero looked up from the paper, able to form a clever "Huh?" 

She snickered. "I said, I assume you found something of interest in the paper pile? You were looking completely lost there." 

"I found something that might be useful, that's all." 

She nodded. "Ah-huh." 

A bit surprised Hilde didn't push for more information, and slightly unnerved by the silence, Heero struggled trying to find a topic for small-talk; a concept he was most uncomfortable with. He tended to listen to conversations, not start them or speak himself, after all. "How come you have all these papers stored away, anyway? If they don't have anything to do with the operations of the yard, why keep them?" 

Hilde grinned, putting her coffee cup down at the checkered table. "Well, isn't it obvious? The sign of a good salvage yard is that _nothing_ is thrown away, if it can have value. Paper can be recycled. Documents can have historical value." She giggled briefly. "If all else fails, they can apparently serve as coasters." 

Replying with a half-smile, Heero was about to read the document in his hands yet again when Duo returned from the back of the house, dressed all in black, except the big, white terry cloth towel he had wrapped around his hair and the brown-handled brush sticking out from his side pocket. As he passed the kitchen corner, he grabbed one of the small wooden chairs there and made a beeline for Hilde's leather chair. He handed her the brush, adopting his most angelic face and pleading eyes. "Could you brush my hair?" 

"I'm not your servant, Duo." 

With folded hands, Duo fluttered his eyes acting much too innocent. "Pleeeease." 

Hilde smirked, sighed, knowing all too well Duo would push until he got want he wanted. She accepted the brush, and Duo swiveled the small chair around, straddling it to face Heero, if at a slight angle, not wanting to block the visual line between the other two - that would have been impolite, even if the two _weren't_ speaking. He folded his arms around the back of the chair, threw the soft, white towel aside and shook the mass of moist chestnut in a futile attempt to make the brushing easier - both for Hilde _and_ himself. To his credit, he barely winced at the first few hard tugs of the hairbrush, tangled mess of wet strands resisting the tiny teeth at every inch. 

Heero's eyes wandered between the scene before him and the piece of paper in his hands. He frowned, thoughts he had struggled with for months returning, thoughts of loneliness, solitude - the worst kind; self-imposed. 

Duo brought him out of it. "So... What's the paper you're holding?" 

Heero took a moment to gather his thoughts, opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, looking at Hilde. 

Gritted teeth resisting another hard pull of the brush, Duo rolled his eyes. "Sheesh. You can trust Hilde, okay? I mean, she's a pain sometimes, but-" 

That earned him a smack of the brush square on the head. 

"Ow!", he cried, one hand rubbing the site of impact. "I was only joking, you know that!" 

"Oh, do I?" she answered with a mildly wicked smile, starting to brush the tangled brown mass again, slightly more roughly than before. 

"Hey, hey, hey - easy on the hair, okay?" 

She stopped. "Oh, dissatisfied with my services now, are you? Maybe you ought to do it yourself, then - or get your friend over there to help you." 

Duo couldn't help but laugh a little. "You mean _Heero_?" He grinned widely, first at Hilde - who returned the grin, then at Heero's monotonous face. 

"I can handle a brush, Duo." 

"Oh, _really_? Your hair says otherwise, pal." 

Suddenly remarkably self-conscious, Heero let one hand sift through his unruly bangs, dulled glare not wavering from Duo. "You mean you don't trust me?" 

"Look - Heero, I'd trust you with my _life_. Now, my _hair_... That's a whole different matter. You've threatened to chop it off nearly as many times as Wufei." Duo was still smiling, but to Heero, this was no joke. 

Eyes downcast, the reply came slowly. "I'm... sorry." 

Smile to surprise. "What did you say?" 

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I shouldn't have said that about your precious braid - but it was usually uttered following one of your annoying pranks. You didn't exactly go out of your way to make life easy for us, Duo." 

"Aw, come on. You just don't have a sense of humor, admit it." 

Again, Duo earned a smack with the hairbrush. "Behave, Duo." 

Rubbing the new sore spot, he shot an annoyed glare at Hilde. "Sheesh. Yes, _mom_." 

Another smack, albeit weaker. 

With a swift swing, Duo took the brush back. "Would you _stop_ that?" 

Hilde just smiled back at him. Duo looked over to Heero, a bit surprised to see the renown stoic smirking. In such company, Duo couldn't really keep his anger - not that he did so usually, anyway. Pent-up emotions is the easiest way to eventually explode; better to vent every now and then. 

He began brushing the remaining tangles out. "Okay, apology accepted. Now, what's that paper?" 

"This is a document relating to the item recovery program. Evidently, there is a reason why this was never really disclosed to the public. The local government installed an inheritance clause." 

"Inheritance clause?" 

"Yes. The dismantling program was scheduled to take five years. If no claim has been made to the personal belongings two years after that deadline, the belongings become the property of the government." 

Duo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds like the L2 government, all right. If there's a chance to steal something legally, go for it. No wonder they're keeping the program all under wraps. I'd be surprised if even one former crew member of either ship have actually retrieved anything from it." 

"At least one have." 

"Huh?" 

"I have." 

"You left something of value aboard _Peacemillion_?" 

"Back then, I didn't val-" Heero stopped himself, not wanting to answer more than was asked. "Yes. And I applied to retrieve it. They were not too happy about it. I didn't understand why back then, but now I do." 

Though dying of curiosity to find out what Heero had left behind - and later bothered to get back - Duo let the matter drop. It was obvious to him Heero didn't want to discuss it, so it would have to wait for another day. Just another mystery added to the walking enigma; a puzzle he was determined to eventually solve. 

Done brushing, Duo ran his fingers through the loosened strands, and quickly wove it back into his trademark braid, securing it with an elastic at the end. "Okay, done. Want to get going, Heero?" 

Heero nodded, put the document back among the other papers and got to his feet. A few quick strides later, holding the door handle, he noticed the absence of the sound of steps behind him, and turned to see the new hold-up. Hilde had grabbed Duo's arm, mouth open, evidently searching for the right words. After a few unnerving seconds, they came. "Just - just be careful, okay? I don't know what you guys have gotten yourself into this time, but if you don't return, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself." 

Duo grinned, gave her a quick hug. "Don't worry, Heero and I don't exactly risk great peril by visiting the paper jungle down at Colony Hall, now do we? Okay, maybe we'd get some nasty paper cuts or something, but-" 

Hilde punched his shoulder, but started smiling nevertheless. 

"Look, I'll be back soon, okay? Just promise you make dinner, and-" 

Again, he got a punch, a bit harder one this time. "It's _your_ turn to make dinner, Duo. And remembering last Saturday's attempt, may I suggest you get some takeout on the way back?" 

"Hey, it wasn't _my_ fault the oven decided to burn the roast to charcoal. How as _I_ supposed to know you couldn't warm the thing four times as fast at four times the heat?" 

Hilde put her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, fighting back the headache, but still smiling. Duo was already by the door, stepping out the moment Heero opened it. Hilde gave Heero a soft look, mouthed the words 'watch him', to which he nodded, reaffirming his earlier promise. With that, he too was out the door, leaving Hilde with the messy living room - not to mention bathroom, as she was to discover soon enough, much to her chagrin. 

------- 

-end part one- 

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Aquarius, part two

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
Aquarius, part two   


AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue. 

-------------- 

Heero set a brisk pace for their walk to Colony Hall, as if determined to make up for lost time. Duo kept up, occasionally pointing out one of the few sights of the run-down colony, such as the headless statue of the founder of the L2 cluster, Samson White, undeterred by Heero's unresponsiveness. Duo didn't care Heero didn't appear even remotely interested; he'd acted as a tour guide for visitors to L2 when he was a kid, too - one of the few possible incomes for a street urchin, as long as he stayed away from the bad sort of tourists. The story of White was not all that well known on the other colonies. Unlike the other clusters, the L2 project had had a really hard time getting cash for construction, unfavorable location and all. Samson White had been a charismatic man, however, and had somehow scraped together enough money to put L2 together. It didn't matter that this statue of him - the largest one - didn't have a head. White's head decorated most of the money of L2, anyway. All L2 residents knew what he looked like. All of this, and much, much more he told Heero, who in return did nothing. Indeed, Heero was, as so many times in the past, attempting to ignore him, lacking reasonable alternatives. However, at one sentence, he stopped walking. 

"You know, you ought to visit Hilde and me some time when there's _not_ a crisis going on. We could show you all the sights the colony has to offer, and then some." 

Duo continued a few steps, not immediately noticing Heero had stopped while he was blabbering away. As he turned to find out what the holdup was, he could see Heero appeared to be studying the pavement thoroughly. 

"Heero? Is there a problem?" 

Returning from his thoughts, Heero looked up, eyes weary. "No. Nothing's wrong." Hardly noticeable, he bit his lower lip, and resumed walking. "Let's go." 

Duo shrugged, following. 

A few moments later, Duo thought he heard Heero mumble something, though he couldn't make it out. "What did you say?" 

"I said 'nice'," Heero said, nodding backwards. 

Duo grinned. "Oh, you mean the house? Gee, thanks. Can't take all credit, Hilde helped with the decorating job, and-" 

Heero smirked, interrupting him. "I didn't mean just the house." 

"Oh..." This time, Duo stopped walking, not to ponder, but to laugh. 

"What's so funny? I just complemented you on your-" 

"On my best friend, yeah. Not girlfriend." 

"Hilde _isn't_ your-" 

"No." 

This time, Heero was perplexed. "But... I mean, you work together, you _live_ together, you-" 

Duo shook his head, one hand dispatched to scratch the sudden itch he felt at the back of his neck. "Yeah - but that doesn't mean anything, I mean - She's my best friend though, that's for sure. Not sure if I could call her anything more than that..." 

"Then find out," came the matter-of-fact reply. 

Waving his flat palm side-to-side in a forbidding fashion, Duo made his thoughts on the subject clear. "Oh, no I won't. No way I'm giving that woman an inch; she'd grab a mile before I knew what was happening. I mean, I like her, but I'm young and absolutely not ready for the whole 'settle down' thing." He grinned, relaxing both arms again, folding them before his chest. "Frankly, I don't think _she_ is, either. Not that I know if she'd want to-" He stopped, realizing who he was talking to. "Oh, just forget it. What happens, happens." 

"I'm merely wondering if-" 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Nosy. What about _your_ love life, hotstuff? Why aren't you with Relena?" 

Heero raised an eyebrow. "Relena? What do you know about-" 

Duo snickered. "Well, I'm not blind, Heero. At least, I don't think so. That girl was head over heels in it for you. Are you saying you didn't even give the poor thing a single date?" 

Suddenly taking a profound interest in his white, yellow-streaked sneakers, Heero tried to look not as guilty as he was charged. Of course, it wasn't the whole truth - in the end, it was not _he_ who had resisted the idea; Relena outgrew him without him noticing, and by the time he realized he felt like having more than an assorted group of loose friendships, it was too late. However, he was not about to admit that phenomenal failure, not to anyone - including himself, and it was slowly eating away on his insides. 

It was easy enough to sense the discomfort both felt at discussing the topic of love - or lack thereof, and Duo decided to change the topic. There was another question he wanted answered. "Say, where have you been for the last few months? I tried to get the whole gang together a while ago, but I couldn't find any way at all to reach you. Not like the rest of the gang was easy to get a hold of, but Wufei you can get to through the Preventers, and Quatre can be reached by vid-phone, if you get through his maze of secretaries first. Even Trowa is traceable, even with the circus on the road. Now, _you_, on the other hand... That's how I guessed about Relena - I called her, but she said she hadn't _really_ seen you since you left the hospital five months ago - whatever that meant. None of the guys had seen you since then. Where have you _been_, Heero?" 

Slowly shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Heero thought of ways to avoid the question, as he had ever since he had gotten the pager message from Lady Une. "Away. Had to think." 

"About what?" 

Heero looked at him, opened his mouth to say, but closed it just the same, resigning to a sense of futility. "Never mind. Not important." 

Duo put his hands on his hips. "Look, if it was important enough to spend five _months_ thinking about, it _should_ be something important." 

An answer was not forthcoming, that much Duo understood - and in the end, accepted, reasoning Heero would tell in due time. Still, it didn't feel good not to be trusted enough to be told. 

"Okay, you don't have to tell me. Just - Just remember that if you ever want to talk, we're all here for you, okay?" 

Heero nodded, and resumed walking towards Colony Hall. 

------- 

Colony Hall was a four-story building, white coat of paint shedding great flakes, littered with dark streaks. Still, it was standing, and that was apparently the most essential feature. For how long it'd remain so, was anybody's guess - A red tube scaffolding was erected at one side of the entrance to the lobby, and two workmen were busy replacing an ornamental lion figure that appeared ripe to fall to the ground from old age, wear and tear. 

They stepped through the dark wooden doors, and Heero went right for the information booth, asking for where he could register a claim in the _Peacemillion/Libra_ item recovery program. The young redhead behind the counter first gave him an odd look, but checked her files for the right address. 

"The program has been moved to 12 Franklin Street - that's out the door, to your left, two blocks down, then-" 

"I know where that is," Duo interrupted, grabbing Heero's arm. "Let's go, pal." And with that, he half-dragged his friend out the door, by which time Heero tore himself from Duo's grasp. They walked quickly, not exchanging a single world until they reached the address. It was a run-down warehouse, two guards standing outside the only massive sliding doors not welded and nailed shut. As they approached, the two guards scowled at them, obviously trying to determine if they posed a threat or not. One of them had a torn OZ armband around his right arm, perhaps under the delusion any past associations with such organizations was of value to him, a warning to any challengers. Some people simply can't abandon their pasts, no matter how futile it was to clutch to old ideals when they had long since been replaced by better ones. This guard was one of them. 

Within the warehouse, a middle-aged man with an ever-growing bald spot amidst the black turning gray sat with his feet up at an old wooden desk, reading a newspaper, cigarette dangling from the right side of his mouth, smoke trailing lazy circles up towards the ceiling high above them. The entire front section of the warehouse appeared empty, but another guard - far more clearly armed than the two at the door - stood vigil by a hallway down to the right. Heero stopped, grabbing a hold of Duo. 

"They moved since I picked up the-" He paused. "Since I retrieved my belongings. Last time, they were situated much closer to Colony Hall." 

Duo nodded in acknowledgement, knowing this wasn't what Heero really wanted to say. Heero continued. 

"They probably felt they needed to add more secrecy and security. Or both. They must have found something valuable in the wreckage." 

"Well, probably something they had aboard _Libra_, then. Not really anything of value aboard the _Peacemillion_ - nothing these guys would treasure, at least." 

Heero nodded, agreeing. 

At the desk, the man had finally noticed their presence, put down his newspaper and feet and stomped his cigarette in the square brown ashtray at the side of the desk. He waved them forward. "Okay, boys - what can I help you with?" 

"We're here to retrieve something from the _Peacemillion_ wreckage," Heero began. "We were told the item recovery program had moved to this address." 

The man nodded and opened up a drawer, pulling out a piece of paper. "Alright. You'll need to fill out one of these forms, attach a clearance slip 32-A and some ID, and we'll be ready to go down to the storage area." 

Heero took the form and looked it over, not quite sure what to do with it. This was not how the procedure went last time he went through it. 

The old man searched his pockets for a pen, eventually finding one on his desk, handing it to Heero. Accepting it, Heero put the paper down on the desk, and quickly began filling the form out. The requisition form wasn't that unusual - it specified which person's items were being retrieved, what items were to be picked up, and other things related to the artifacts in question. Duo kept looking over his shoulder, as if ready to pounce on him should he fill in something incorrectly. He did not, however, and soon pushed the paper back across the desk to the middle-aged clerk. The man looked it over quickly, a new cigarette in his mouth. After securing it in his stained right-hand fingers, he gave the paper back to Heero. "Okay, this one looks to be in order. Now, for the 32-A slip... Do you have one?" 

Heero was slightly taken aback. "No - I thought you'd give it to me when this one was filled out." 

The clerk shook his head. "Okay, you'll have to go back to Colony Hall, get a 32-A form from the Office of Industrial Growth and Development, and double back here. You'll also have to have some form of ID papers - passports, driver's license, that sort of thing. Do you have that?" 

Heero nodded. Granted, he had both genuine and fakes of either, and more. One of them should certainly suffice. 

"Okay, then. Now, we close shop in two hours, so you'll have to be back before then, or come back tomorrow." 

Again, Heero nodded, and set a brisk pace back to Colony Hall, Duo trotting as best he could to keep up. 

"Heero, what just happened back there?" 

Heero shrugged his shoulders. "Bureaucracy happened. I guess they've made the process a bit more uncomfortable since the last time I was here." 

"What happened last time?" 

"Nothing. I just filled in a form, gave them some identity paperwork, and that was it." 

Duo was again tempted to try to pry out of the reclusive ex-pilot what had been recovered, but wisely decided against it. Soon, they were back at the run-down facade of Colony Hall, and again talking to the redhead behind the information counter. 

"We need to see someone at the Office for Industrial Growth and Development. We need a form 32-A." 

The redhead eyed him suspiciously, but decided to do her job, anyway - provide information. "The IGD offices are not here - they are at 47 Willow Road, fourth floor - that's-" 

Again, Duo cut in, informing them both he knew where that was too, and they were on their way. This time, they left Colony Hall down a completely different direction from the warehouses, at last ending up in a shopping district, local enterprises far better maintained than the governmental facilities. Perhaps these shops actually had money. 

Above a bakery, an accounting company and a dentist's office was the IGD offices, tucked away in a corner of the fourth floor. Two light knocks and an 'enter' later, Heero and Duo were faced with a chubby dark-haired man hiding behind the high stacks of paper on either side of his desk. From his appearances, the man had evidently been to the first floor of the building often, though his mood signaled he hadn't stopped unnecessarily at the second or third floors for some time. He smiled at their arrival, relieved to be torn away from his daily dealings with official inkworks, if for but a few minutes. "Hello, gentlemen," he began, eagerly shaking Heero's hand - and, as a consequence, the rest of the poor boy. "Now, what can I help you two with?" 

"Uhm - We're need to get a form 32-A..." 

The clerk pondered this for a few seconds, round fingers rubbing his neatly trimmed beard, eyeballs turning towards the ceiling, as if the answer was written up there. Then, epiphany hit. "Ah, yes - 32-A... That's one of the retrieval papers for government-expropriated belongings, if I recall correctly. Yes, I think I have some of those forms in here... somewhere..." He threw some bewildered glances throughout the messy office, finally zooming in on a big metallic file cabinet in the corner by the single tiny window of the room. After successfully playing the gopher, he returned with two pieces of paper stapled together in the corner. "Ah, yes. This is it," he informed, handing the paper to Duo, who was determined not to let Heero run everything, and had stepped closer just to get the paper first. 

"Thanks." He turned to go, but was stopped by the clerk. 

"Wait, that's not _all_ of it." 

The two young men looked at the clerk. 

"Yes, after you fill it in, you also need a stamp from the Department of Acquisitions," he pointed to a big, white square at the top paper in Duo's hand. "Right there, see? Only when you have _that_, the document turns valid. You have to go down to Colony Hall to get that, I think." He put his big hands on his equally proportioned hips. "Anything else I can help you with? Anything at all?" 

"No, this will do just fine," Duo smiled back at him. "Thanks." 

And with that, the two ex-pilots headed back towards Colony Hall, leaving the big man with his work, though both felt a slight pity for him as they stepped out, hearing the deep sigh of returning boredom and the creaking of the old desk chair. 

Upon their return to the Information booth, the young redhead was busy chewing gum, occasionally forming bubbles to fight her own boredom. She was none too pleased to be interrupted from her procrastination by the two boys, and thus quickly gave them directions to the Department of Acquisitions; to the left, down the corridor to the first intersection, then first hallway on the right, fourth door on the left. They didn't stop until they stood outside said door, upon which Duo searched his pockets for a pen to fill out the form with. Before he could find one, Heero gave him one, having 'borrowed' it from the counter of the Information booth while Duo talked to the sour redhead. Duo happily accepted, held the paper up against the white brick wall and filled it out, under the constant supervision of Heero. Soon thereafter, they entered through the door, bickered with a bitter elderly lady with a severe selective hearing disability to get the right stamp, and were fast on their way back towards the warehouses, armed with all the right documents, but fast running out of allotted daytime - the artificial day/night cycle of the colony was rapidly going towards evening, and in less than an hour the warehouse would close for the day. The lights were already dimming slightly. They would not turn completely off, for safety reasons, but they would dim enough to create a dark twilight, making sleep come easier to people still very much tied to habits of life on Earth. 

At the warehouse, the balding clerk had finished his newspaper, and was on yet another cigarette, working with a comb, attempting to make his few surplus strands cover his obvious deficit. He put the comb down, took the papers the boys handed him, and looked through them carefully, now and then puffing on his cigarette. 

"Hmm... Well, this looks good enough. We just need to amend it with one more form, and-" 

Duo groaned, thumb and forefinger grabbing the bridge of his nose to fight the oncoming headache. Heero simply blinked. Twice. "What form?" he asked as calmly as he could, trying not to let his irritation surface. 

"Just another standard identity form. Got one right here." With that, he opened another drawer and took out the document. "See? Now, which one of you is," he glanced at the filled-out documents, "Howard?" 

The two boys exchanged puzzled looks. "Neither of us," Duo began. "We're just picking up his stuff, that's all." 

The smoking man gave them both a stern look, and put all the documents down on his desk. "In that case, I'm very sorry, boys. You can't retrieve something for others than yourself without a waiver from whom you are 'picking up stuff' from. You'll need Howard's signature on that, as well as the signature of a district stipendiary magistrate approved by the L2 authorities. In other words, you cannot fax the paper to this Howard person to sign - you need to bring both the document and Howard to one of the approved magistrates." 

Again, Duo felt as if his legs were ripped away from under him, slouching his shoulders and hanging his head, taking in a deep breath to refrain from attacking the middle-aged man. Heero acted the statue again, though his fists were rapidly clenching and loosening again, and his right brow momentarily gained the oddest twitch. "May we have a list of these approved magistrates?" 

Taking another puff of his cigarette, sending lazy circles towards the ceiling, the man shook his head. "Sorry, we don't have it here. You have to go back to Colony Hall and ask there." 

Duo had calmed down, and started talking, showing but a trace of annoyance in his voice. "Wait, the two of us were aboard the _Peacemillion_ too - can't we at least get our own stuff back? I mean, you said-" 

"If either of you had been Howard, you could have. However, these forms have already been filled out, so if you want to retrieve your own belongings, you'd need to-" 

Duo waved off the rest. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it." Taking another deep sigh, he picked up the filled-out forms from the desk, and grabbed Heero's wrist. "We'll be back as soon as we have the paperwork ready." 

The man nodded. "Also, would you please let this 'Howard' person know that sending more people won't help him retrieve his possessions. We have a firm policy that-" 

Heero immediately flagged an eyebrow. "More people?" 

"Yes - there was an elderly gentleman here while you were gone, claiming he was a friend of Howard's, here to pick up a few choice trinkets. He didn't have his papers in order, of course, and I instructed him on the same things you have just been." 

With computer-like speed, Heero tried to determine the possibilities - it could be a legit friend sent by Howard to help, but that was very unlikely. An opportunist, someone who knew Howard's name and rank aboard the ship, hoping to find something of value? This was the solution he hoped for, as the third option was someone after the key piece in specific - someone who also wanted to enter the vault. That would mean there was a leak within the Preventers, at the very least. "Can you give a description of this person?" 

The man shrugged, another puff of smoke. "Not much to say. Caucasian, looked like he was in his late fifties or early sixties. White hair, trimmed moustache, round glasses, brown hat and gray coat, and some kind of fancy walking-cane. He was very polite, right up until he offered what I took for a bribe. That's when I told him to leave, and come back when he had the right papers. Which I will now ask you to, as well. You might still make it today, but..." 

He tapped his right forefinger on the wristwatch on his left hand. Duo nodded, and dragged Heero out the big door, back towards Colony Hall. They were halfway there before Heero got out of Duo's firm wrist-lock. 

"Duo, stop." 

Adherence. "It sounds like we're not the only ones looking for the amulets." 

Heero nodded. "It could be nothing. I hope it is - still, I want to let Lady Une know as soon as we return." 

"Shouldn't we call, if this was-" 

"No. _If_ something is wrong, we risk letting 'someone' know we know 'someone' knows. It's best to let the Lady know directly." He sighed. "This could be just coincidences, but it's better to be cautious." 

Duo grinned. "I'd say the word is 'paranoid', but 'cautious' works. Okay, so we let her know some delirious old-timer tried to steal Howard's stuff." 

"You don't think there's something wrong with this picture." 

Duo shrugged. "Not really. I mean, there's plenty of con men on L2, in all ages - I'd be surprised if they don't get a dozen or so fortune hunters down at that warehouse daily. Let's just get the last papers, and be done with this mess, okay?" 

Heero nodded, and they continued their walk. They reached Colony Hall in no time, courtesy of Heero's brisk pace. 

Again confronting the temperamental redhead, there was first an exchange of heated words, before Duo handed her a bill asking her to at least tell 'Uncle Samson' about what they needed. The feisty girl grinned, grabbed the bill and handed them a document listing all the district stipendiary magistrates that were approved by the L2 local government. The list was quite short, but a dozen or so names. Not surprising, each and every one of them had offices located at one colony or another in the L2 cluster - but only on the most distant ones from the one they were currently in. Furthermore, some of the addresses were incomplete, one of the names appeared to be outright fake, and there was little doubt in either boy's mind there was a good chance some were long-since dead. Heero pushed the paper back to the redhead, grabbed Duo's upper arm and thus signaled in no unclear manner they were leaving. 

Back out on the street, Heero led his friend to the narrow passage between Colony Hall and the neighboring building, resting against one wall. Duo copied his actions on the other wall. "Okay, so now what? I mean, it'd be easier to get Howard up here to fetch the thing for himself than to get all the legit paperwork so _we_ can get it." 

Heero shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if there would be even more papers to fill out if Howard came up here." He forcefully slammed his right heel against the wall, venting some frustration. "I have fought hopeless odds, and survived. I've been shot, stabbed, cut, chained, blown up, raised by assassins and madmen and generally been treated like shit, and survived. I will _not_ be defeated by governmental red tape!" With that, he hurled an iron fist at the opposite walls, sending plaster and bits of concrete flying, creating a lovely pattern of cracks in the substandard building material. 

Duo cowered slightly, taking one step sideways away from his friend. When Heero was mad, there was only one place to be - not there. 

The lights high above them lowered another notch, turning the cityscape slightly gray. For a while, neither of them said anything, nor moved. 

Then, Heero mumbled something. 

"What was that, Heero?" 

"We're going back. Tonight." 

"What, you mean we're going to break into the building? Look, we're here representing the Preventers - don't you think-" Heero's intense glare immediately silenced him. Heero took all the filled-out documents and tore them to tiny shreds, letting the pieces of paper go everywhere in the narrow alley. 

"There. Littering. What's one more violation on our records?" 

Duo was barely able to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all, but didn't have any better idea. "Okay, Heero. We'll attempt to break in. We were good at it during the war - and I'm sure they haven't put more defenses around those pieces of scrap than OZ put around their bases." 

"Don't count on it. They've cared enough to establish one hell of a paper trail around it - what makes you think the _real_ defenses would be any less? _Especially_ on this colony?" 

Duo chuckled. "Yeah, you might be right. Look, at least let us go get something to eat first - the lights won't reach their darkest setting for another couple of hours, and I know this really good burger place not far from here. My treat, what do you say?" 

Thinking it over, Heero nodded, and they were on their way. 

-------- 

Hours later, as the more infamous side of L2 business ventures and establishments truly came to life, the warehouse district around Franklin Street became void of people - save some of the storehouses on the fringe to the commercial areas, who were, along with the more shady bars and nightclubs, just opening for business - and not just of the legit variety. 

Fortunately, there were no guards patrolling Franklin Street. Oddly enough, it made sense. On L2, guards meant something of value - especially night-time guards. And if there was one thing you wouldn't want to do, it was to alert the presence of a potential treasure amidst a den of thieves and con men, and L2 was - not _entirely_ inappropriately - reputed to be just that. 

The massive doors of 12 Franklin Street were closed, and would clearly be difficult to move without explosives. A small door built within the massive portals showed greater promise. Duo reached inside his braid to pull out a thin strand of metal, quickly bending into a proper lockpick and got to work on the lock while Heero was watchman, just in case some inconvenient passer-by was to show. Three minutes later, they were inside, closing the door behind them. 

The room was dark, letting none of the dim light outside come in. They had prepared for this, and had, following the quick visit to the fast-food joint, bought two flashlights at a hardware store open beyond normal hours. The two thin beams of light swept across the contours of the big room, which was as empty as previously that day; the clerk's desk at the center the only thing there. To their right was the hallway through which the personal belongings recovered from _Peacemillion_ and _Libra_ were allegedly kept. They made their way down there, and found themselves in a new store room, much smaller than the first, and with what had once been a side door large enough to fit a car walled up with bricks. Every side of the storage room was filled up with all kinds of junk; rags, pieces of metal, oil drums, various tools, some tanks of compressed gas, two bags of cement and other assorted building materials. This was, of course, of no importance. Their objective was the steel door on the far side, which was thoroughly locked. Again, Duo brought out his lockpick tools. With the small flashlight pinned between his teeth to provide light, he did his best to get through the lock. Five minutes passed. Then ten. At fifteen minutes, Heero got slightly impatient. 

"What's the problem?" 

Duo took the lockpicks in one hand and the flashlight in the other, turning the light to the roof where the white plates reflected the light enough to slightly brighten the dark room. "This one's a _good_ lock. I know the type, it's virtually impossible to get through from this side - the lock mechanism is blocked out by three separate plates, and you need one damn special key to turn the right cogs within it to open it. Plus, this type of door," he tapped the steel, producing a deep, quiet clang, "Is really thick, and has at least ten deadbolts lodged into the door frame - two at the top and bottom, three at the sides. Even _if_ I got all the right cogs hooked up, the lockpicks would break before I could force the door open." He paused, seeing Heero's mind already at work behind the calm face. "No, we can't use explosives - the amulet might be in a storage booth right on the other side of the door. And no, you can't kick it in with pure strength either. It's solid steel, Heero - I know you're strong, but I doubt even you can punch through what must be at least a foot of steel." Duo shrugged. "For all we know, they could have gundanium at the core of the door, too." 

"We still have to get in, Duo." 

The flat tone annoyed Duo to no end. "I _know_ that. If we were to use explosives, we'd have better luck at one of the walls - but we'd risk destroying what we came for, and we'd call attention to ourselves. Plus, the walls are probably really thick, too - I think this place was an ammo storage before, heavily armored to prevent explosions or fires that breaks out in there from destroying the entire colony in the process." He turned his flashlight beam to survey the room, stopping at the welding equipment and the acetylene tanks. Duo never even got to suggest his idea, though. 

"That won't work. Like you said, the door is too thick. We wouldn't be able to cut an opening big enough - there might not be enough gas in those tanks for it, anyway." 

Duo sighed, continuing scanning the room, this time along the roof. When he passed an air duct above the walled-up side door he stopped, suddenly getting an idea. He quickly turned the light to move across the top of the wall with the steel door, at last resting on a rusty grate covering a ventilation shaft. "Yes!" 

"What?" 

"Heero, see up there," he pointed. "See that? I bet that leads right through the wall and into the room on the other side of the door." 

With that, Duo was pushing one of the empty oil drums over to the wall, directly beneath the grate. He climbed up, shone his flashlight through the reddened metal, trying to make out what was behind it. "Okay, it _looks_ like it leads straight ahead... But it's much deeper than just a single foot. Gotta be at _least_ six feet long, and there's another grate at the other side." He put the flashlight in his mouth again, and applied both hands to the rusty metal, trying to yank it off the wall. Unsuccessful, he put one foot against the wall, and tried again, aided by the leg. Still no luck. At that point, he felt Heero tapping the foot he was balancing on. 

"Step aside." 

As told, Duo did, jumping off the oil drum to let Heero face the grate, taking Heero's flashlight and using it along with his own to provide light. With gritted teeth, Heero pulled as hard as he could, metal of both grate and its screws in the wall at last giving in, causing Heero to lose his balance, falling backwards only to crash-land on Duo while they were covered in dust and plaster following the grate off the wall. 

Heero rolled off, none the worse from the fall, and offered Duo a hand to get up. "Are you okay?" 

Accepting the handout, Duo got to his feet, brushing himself off. "Yeah, I think so." He winced. "My back will probably be sore for a while, though." 

Heero smirked. "At least I got the grate down." 

Duo's wince turned into a slightly pained grin. "Yeah, sure you did - after _I_ weakened it for you." 

Heero didn't counter, thinking it only fair to let Duo have a small victory in return for softening his own fall. Soon, Duo was back on the oil drum, using both flashlights to scan the sides of the ventilation shaft and the other end of it. 

"Okay, the grate at the other end looks even more wrecked than this one." He tossed one of the flashlights to Heero. "See if you can find something long that we can use for a battering ram. I want that other grate down before I go through." 

Heero looked at him in disbelief. "You have _got_ to be kidding. How are you supposed to go through _that_? And why?" 

Indeed, his concern was well justified. The air duct was far from big, and would be a challenge even to the greatest - or more precisely, thinnest - of contortionists. "Look, Heero - I've been getting into places I weren't supposed to enter by crawling through shafts, ducts and tunnels for as long as I can remember - I think I'll be able to squeeze through this one. And it's the only way to get that door open." 

"You said you couldn't pick the lock on that door." 

"Not from _this_ side, I can't. I think I can from the other side - without the plates protecting the lock mechanism, I could probably use something more sturdy than my standard lockpicks. That would probably work." 

Heero shook his head. "Assuming you _could_ get the door open from the other side, how the heck are you to fit through that air duct? How would you get your shoulders through - much less your hips?" 

Duo put his hands to his sides, frowning slightly. "Are you insinuating something, Heero?" 

Opening his mouth to speak, Heero wisely decided not to anyway, and began searching for something to use as an extended battering ram. Meanwhile, Duo used his hands to measure the dimensions of the vent, his shoulders and hips, concluding it'd be an extremely narrow fit. A _painfully_ narrow fit. He reached into the duct, dust, dirt and cobwebs clinging to his arms. Trailing his fingers along the edges, especially the joints of the plates. Fortunately, they were pretty smooth, not jagged enough to cut him or his clothing - he hoped. Still, he couldn't reach that far inside, and there would be virtually no space to wiggle through on - which meant he'd probably get some lovely scratches trying to inch his way through, unless... 

He jumped down from the oil drum, and began passing his flashlight across the assorted items stacked in the room yet again. In one corner, Heero stood triumphant from his search, an old pipe in each hand, but both were too short, some four feet long each. Duo was about to ask, but Heero simply nodded in the direction of the welding equipment, showing his intent. Duo grinned, and continued searching for something of his own purposes. 

------- 

There had barely been enough gas left in the tanks to weld the two pipes together. Duo had found an old water cooler still half-filled with water, and they used that to cool down the weld with. Pushing another empty oil drum up along the first to give both enough room, both boys got up close to the air duct, pushed the makeshift battering ram in as far as it would go, pulled it back slightly, and threw as much force as they could into the thrust. The metal of the other grate creaked loudly and buckled, but didn't break. targeting the pipe towards the lower left corner, they battered the grate again. The screw in that corner was dislodged from the wall. They repeated against the lower right corner, same success. Repeating the process on the upper corners took more effort, as they had to tilt the makeshift battering ram at an odd angle, weld grinding against the duct metal. They were both very pleased when the grate on the other side fell to the floor with a loud clang. 

Duo jumped down from his oil drum, leaving Heero to extract the welded pipes. 

"Okay, now that that's done - how are you going to get through?" 

A wide grin was all he got as a reply, as Duo rummaged through some of the junk, searching for something he'd spotted earlier, hidden behind the water cooler. Triumphantly, he dragged the sizable container out from under a pile of useless stuff. 

Heero gave him an odd look when he realized what it was. "This is-" 

"Motor oil. Yeah. If I cover myself in that stuff, the friction should be minimal. I'd be through that duct in no time, and avoid scratching myself. Sure, I'd have to shower afterwards and get some new clothes, but I'll get through. Haven't met a door that's truly defeated me yet, and I sure won't let _this_ metal monster be the one." He shrugged. "The one we're to get all the amulets for might be the one, but this one sure won't be it." 

Heero shook his head, sighing at the whole idea. "So, you're saying you're going to cover your clothes with that stuff, and-" 

Duo bit his lip before interrupting. "Err... No. I'm not sure there'd be enough room for me with my clothes on, and I need every millimeter of space I can get to wiggle through there." With that, he sat down on an oil drum, taking off his boots and socks. 

Heero was at a total loss of what to say. Or do. Or think. One of Duo's harebrained schemes had sneaked up on him once again. Still, he had no better idea to offer, and could do nothing but to go along. 

Duo was down to his pants. "Uhm... Heero, could you turn around for a minute?" 

It took half a second before Heero realized he was being spoken to. "Huh?" 

"Turn around? Please?" 

"Why? It's not like you have something I haven't seen before, Duo." 

"Well, I'm _shy_, damn it!" 

"You didn't have a problem with the dressing- or shower-rooms at Howard's barge or at the dorms we hid out in during the war, nor-" 

"Newsflash, Heero - this place isn't any of those, and I'm the only one losing clothing, so-" 

"Are you saying it'd help if I took of my clothes, too?" 

Duo gaped, for just a second, then let loose a frustrated growl, before turning his back. "Aw, just forget it." 

Heero smirked, done teasing. He turned around, and shrugged at the absurdity of it all. 

Duo decided not to go completely commando, despite the assignment, leaving his underwear on. He took one of the rags and soaked it with engine grease, applying the slippery stuff to his skin. The room had been cold enough _without_ this in addition, and he couldn't help but shiver and frown as he covered himself in the messy stuff, smearing some on his underwear too, and after significant hesitation he put both hands in the grease container and slid them over his braid, giving his hair a sheen in a highly unusual matter. Duo took his lockpicks and whatever else he assumed he could use on the other end, and threw it through the air duct. He balanced himself, put the flashlight between his teeth, and twisted his arms trying to shrink the breadth his shoulders, hearing his joints pop as he did so. Slowly, he inched into the air duct, using his belly and fingers to crawl forward. He felt his hips reach the edge, and turned just enough to fit through. 

Heero heard him struggle, and decided enough was enough, shy or not. He turned around to see Duo's knees disappear into the air duct. "Is it working? Need me to push or something?" 

Within the duct, Duo inched forward, catching his breath to answer, rolling the flashlight over to the side of his mouth and placing the tip to the bottom side of the duct so he could talk without dropping it. "I'm fine, don't worry. Just give me a sec, and I'll be through." He rolled the flashlight back into place with his tongue, and continued on. 

The metal walls closed in all around him, but the motor oil had made his skin slick enough to slide rather than scrape through on. He felt his toes touch metal, and his fingers reaching out to the other side. Despite all the cobwebs and dust clinging to him because of sweat and grease, Duo couldn't help but grin - it had actually worked! Another inch, and his head would be on the other side! 

Of course, one should never tempt fate by taking victory for granted before the fact. 

One of the joints of the air duct components had evidently _not_ been smoothened out in the edges as much as the rest. The elastic band on left side of his underwear had been caught on something. He wiggled a little backwards, trying to get it off the hook. Instead, he succeeded getting his one remaining article of clothing stuck on the _right_ side as well. After muttering a few silent curses, he wormed forward again, feeling the underwear slide off him. _Great. Just great. They say stripping is supposed to be sexy. Here I am, all slicked up in engine grease, covered in dust, dirt and cobwebs, being undressed by a metal corridor..._

Finally poking his head through to the other side, he spat out his flashlight, sending it crashing to the floor below, making one little flaw of their plan apparent. 

"How's it going?" 

"Well... I'm through - but I kinda didn't think of how I'd get down from this height." 

"Simple. Fall." 

"Excuse me?!" 

"Fall. Just slide out, try to soften the fall with your hands, and pray none of those sharper tools of yours landed right below you." 

Duo groaned. Still, there wasn't much of an option. He couldn't find anything to grab on to near the air duct. Looking down, the flashlight illuminated a small section towards the wall - an empty section. Nodding to himself, Duo determined that to be the best spot to aim for. He pushed on the wall with his arms, belly through, and artificial gravity did the rest, sending the unfortunate, naked and dirty boy straight for a hard encounter with the floor, and he was not shy of being vocal about it. 

On the other side, Heero couldn't help but smirk at the many swear-words flowing through the air duct. 

Rubbing some of the sore spots that'd undoubtedly turn into bruise marks soon enough, Duo got to his feet, and gathered up the flashlight and his equipment to start working on the door. He'd barely gotten started before remembering his predicament. 

"Uhm, Heero? Could you do something for me?" 

"What?" 

"Could you fetch my undies?" 

"Say again?" 

"My underwear - it got caught up on something in the air duct. Think you could get it out of there?" 

Heero rolled his eyes, but stepped up on the oil drums nevertheless. Sure enough, about halfway inside the slightly greasy corridor there was a small curled-up piece of oily cloth. Briefly considering his options, he took a hold of the makeshift battering ram and used that to get the item of clothing off the jagged edges, and into his hands - where they did not stay for long, freighted over to the pile of Duo's other clothes at arm's length, pinned between thumb and forefinger as if it were toxic. 

At discarding the cloth, his attention turned to the door when something within it clicked. 

"Did you get it open?" 

"No, not yet," Duo's voice sounded through the thick door. "Got one of the cogs to turn, so I'm getting there. Will take a little while longer, but I'll get it done." 

Heero smirked yet again, closed his eyes momentarily, and shook his head, and muttered "You really are Maxwell's little demon, aren't you?" 

"What did you say?" 

"I said, you really _are_ Maxwell's little demon." 

Duo stopped fidgeting the lockpicks. "Max- Oh, damn it. Not you too." 

"Not me too what?" 

"Professor G used to call me that. Could never figure out what the heck he meant by it." 

"Didn't you study physics?" 

"Gee... You know, I think old man pestilence skimped on all the theory stuff in favor of more practical things - you know, like operating a gundam, close combat, explosives and such? Not that I'm not a quick learner, but-" 

"No, then." 

"Well... He taught me what I needed. So, what did I miss?" 

"In this case, the Maxwell Paradox." 

Duo grinned. "What, a new nickname for me?" 

Heero sighed. "Do you know what entropy is?" 

Duo momentarily scratched his head, as if it would help his memory, and returned to struggle with the lock, albeit quietly. "Uhm... Didn't that have to do with energy loss, or something?" 

"Right. The theory is that everything loses usable energy over time as it is transformed. Maxwell's little demon was a challenge to that theory. Say you have a container split by a barrier with only one tiny opening - so small it can only let one molecule pass at a time from one side to the other. On one side you have hot gas. Now, the energy of the molecules is higher on the hot gas side. According to thermodynamics, the hotter molecules would eventually go to the colder side, losing energy as they bumped into the colder molecules until both sides were equally cold. In other words, entropy increases, since energy is lost, and is irrecoverable. And here comes Maxwell's bright idea - what if there's a little imp guarding the molecular gate at the barrier, one that doesn't add energy to the system, but only lets the occasional slow-moving cold molecule to go from the hot side to the colder side? Then the hot side would get hotter, the cold colder and entropy would _decrease_ rather than increase - even without any energy added to the system. That was Maxwell's Paradox - how could this happen? Did the system gain energy from nothing? Was the laws of thermodynamics wrong?" 

Heero's monologue was interrupted as thin metal snapped on the other side. "Damn!" 

"What?" 

"Broke a lockpick. Don't worry, I got extras. Just have to fish out this - Ah, continue, would you? I still don't see what this has to do with me - though I'm sure Wufei would agree with the demon picture." 

Heero gave a slight half-smirk to himself. "Anyway, some years later, a physicist named Szilard figured out that the little demon _does_ add energy to the system - but not through the most visible activity - moving the gate. It adds energy in what it _knows_ about the system. In knowing how the system of the container, the barrier, the hot and cold molecules work, and in turn knowing when to open and close the gate, the imp adds more entropy to the system than it subtracts." 

Another click sounded from the door. "One cog to go. Okay, so you're saying I'm good at breaking the rules 'cause I know how the system works? That I can sneak into places I shouldn't 'cause I know my way around security systems, locks and such?" 

"Yeah, something like that." 

Duo shrugged. "Well, that fits. Certainly adds up to G's weird ways of talking. First time he called me that, was when I got through the patrols and security systems of his shuttle - that's how I met the old guy." 

The last cog creaked loudly, not willing to give in easily. Duo put as much force as he dared against the metal rod he'd jammed into the lock mechanism to push the cog around. With a loud snap, the spoke gave in. The metal bars lodged from the door into the door frame on all sides slammed loudly back into the door, one side at a time. Lastly, the door slid slightly ajar. Heero grabbed the door handle, but didn't have time to open it before Duo poked an arm followed by a shoulder and head out through the opening. Engine grease and sweat had made dust, muck and cobwebs stick to Duo's face and messed-up hair, giving him a trollish appearance, image not diminished the slightest by his unusual eye color. 

"Uhm... Heero, could you turn around again? I'd like to dry off and get my clothes, and..." 

Again, Heero rolled his eyes, but turned around nevertheless, hearing the faint footsteps pass behind him. He couldn't quite see where Duo had picked up this sudden streak of shyness - the demeanor of the braided menace tended more toward being the exact opposite. Then again, being shy in behavior and shy of body are two different things. Dropping the matter, he instead began considering how Duo's incredibly unlikely plans always seemed to work, no matter their level of insanity. One side of his mouth faintly curled up. "I just don't understand how you managed to do that." 

"Hmm?" came the reply, muffled within a shirt. 

Heero turned around, just in time to see Duo's shirt slip back on, to be quickly tucked inside black pants. Heero crossed his arms. "I said, I'm surprised how you manage to follow those insane ideas through - you should _not_ have been able to get through that tiny shaft." 

Duo grinned back at him, balancing on one foot while sliding a sock over the other. "Well, I've always had a knack of getting into places I shouldn't - Maxwell's little demon, right?" 

Heero gave a mild snort. "Right..." 

Soon enough, Duo had gotten his entire attire in their proper places again, and the two ex-pilots walked through the now opened door, carefully avoiding the moist spots of Duo's oily footprints dotting the initial corridor. One or two bore evidence there had been some balance issues, smeared out as they were. Duo let his flashlight skim the vicinity. The entire store room was filled with cubicles, a passage made for every two cubicles, each compartment with an identification number. "Ooookay... This might take a while. Heero, why don't you start down to the right, and I start over to the left. I guess we'll just have to look for anything that screams 'Howard' - you know, colorful ugly clothes, slippers, sunglasses, leftover parts from whatever, anything from his seashell collection, other Pacific rim artifacts or odd-looking gadgets." 

"I disagree," Heero stated, letting the flashlight illuminate the closest cubicle. Within, there was a desk with two big binders on top. Heero immediately went there, and opened one of the binders, which listed the identification numbers of each cubicle, along with contents and, occasionally, the presumed owner. 

Duo looked over Heero's shoulder as he sifted through the pages. "So, they left an inventory?" 

"Looks like it..." Heero grabbed the other one, shoving it at Duo. "You read through this one." 

Duo nodded, and took the binder with him over to the closest wall, where he sat down leaning against the concrete, unfolding the binder to read under the beam of the flashlight. Virtually none of the entries had names attached, and they were most likely organized on a room-for-room basis. He sighed. _Peacemillion_ hadn't exactly had few rooms. At least he could skip all entries marked _Libra_. 

They had been skimming the books nearly half an hour when Duo found at least something familiar, and made a quick mental note of the number. Another five minutes, and Heero slammed his binder together. 

"Found it. Howard's stuff is in compartment #14-205C." 

"And that is... where?" 

Heero shrugged. He put the flashlight on the closest cubicle opening. "Okay, this one is #08-220A..." He then let the beam search out the cubicle sign on the other side - and nearly growled. "And that is #03-041B." 

Duo grinned. "Time to go back to _my_ idea?" 

Heero nodded in defeat, and extended a hand to help Duo up. "You go left, I go right." 

Accepting the hand, Duo got to his feet, and put his binder back with the other before rushing along down the left side aisle to commence his search. He reasoned quickly enough the numbers of the cubicles were indeed completely random. They didn't match in any way the grid layout of the cubicles. He finished the far left side of the storage room without finding either of the numbers he sought. Two rapid turns to the right put him back in the next long corridor - this time with cubicles on both sides. Duo quickened his pace. He was intent on finding one other number before either of them found Howard's, and he knew Heero wouldn't lazy about on his end. 

Soon enough, he was back up along the side of the entrance, and took two swift turns to the left to rush through the next aisle. Nearly halfway down, he found the spare number. 

The cubicle was nearly empty. One small plastic bag was all there was - and within was nothing but what at first glance could be dismissed as junk; some pieces of glass, splintered wood, bits of paper and cardboard, some thin bent metal spokes - nothing of any value, much less any whole object. Duo was just about to pour out the bag's content to see if there was anything else at the bottom when Heero's voice came across the cubicles. 

"Duo! Get over here!" 

Duo put the plastic bag down, but only after quickly running his fingers over the bottom of the bag, though he couldn't sense anything other than the previously mentioned artifacts. "Where?" 

A halo of light appeared a few aisles down as Heero put his flashlight to the roof. Duo ran to the nearest wall, and made his way over to his partner as fast as he could. By then, Heero had already begun sorting through Howard's messy inventory - shirts and other vibrant clothes at one side of the cubicle's table, seashells and rocks in another corner, engine parts and metallic artifacts forming a small pile at the floor. 

"Found anything?" 

Heero shook his head. "Howard said he'd kept it in his nightstand, right?" 

Duo nodded. "Yeah, along with his old pocket watch and his spare sunglasses." 

Heero took the last plastic bag so far left unturned and spread the contents of it at the table. Most appeared to be junk - more seashells or wave-polished rocks, yet another screaming reddish-pink shirt with yellow and green spots, a dried-up flower wreath rapidly breaking apart from the rough treatment, some pyramid-shaped piece of what could only be gundanium judging by the dent it made when it impacted the table, and plenty of other assorted items. Duo tossed the ghastly shirt aside, and rummaged through the stuff. Beneath some crushed flower leaves, he dug out a broken pair of black sunglasses. He held them up, looking through the one fractured and one missing glass within the bent frame. 

"Well, at least we know what to buy the guy for his next birthday..." 

With a soft huff, Heero resumed the search, Duo still playing a bit with the broken sunglasses. Separating seashells, rocks and metal he found an old watch with half a chain still intact, surface scratched and mechanism most likely beyond repair. He handed the pocket watch to Duo. 

"Thanks, man. I'm sure Howard will like having that one back." Duo stared at the pile of clothing, the seashells and the engine parts while putting the shattered sunglasses and dented watch in his pocket. "If he wants _those_, he'll have to get them himself, though." 

Heero smirked. 

It faded not long after. 

"Duo, it's not here." 

"Huh?" 

"The amulet. It's not here." 

"Are you sure?" 

In mild frustration, Heero threw his arms up. "Of _course_ I'm sure - We've gone through everything here, and haven't found it. It's not here!" 

Duo let his left-hand fingers temporarily support his forehead, trying to concentrate. "Okay, okay... Back up. Howard said he last saw the thing in his nightstand aboard _Peacemillion_. We found all the other stuff that were in the same drawer - why wouldn't that little golden-" 

A thought hit him, and he began searching through the pile of seashells and smooth rocks. 

"Heero, did you see a greenish rock when you sorted those out?" 

"No. Should I?" 

Duo pushed aside those of the shells and rocks that did not interest him, some landing on the floor trying to escape the cubicle - unsuccessfully, as each one was intercepted by Heero. They'd have to pack everything up again afterwards to make it harder to see what had been stolen - if anything. 

"Didn't Howard ever show you his collections?" 

Heero shook his head. 

Duo rolled his eyes. "In other words, he wanted to, and you refused, right?" 

No reply came, though from the corner of his eye, Duo saw Heero suddenly taking an interest in the concrete floor. 

He continued searching through the rock pile. "Figures." 

"Look, Howard asked me if I wanted to look at rocks - how was I supposed to know it was something important to him? I thought he was showcasing the first signs of dementia." 

Duo laughed. "That's okay, Heero. It's just that few people manage to say no to Howard when he wants something - I swear, when that guy looks at you with that really odd begging stare-" He shuddered slightly, but still smiled. "Anyway, Howard had one really shiny green piece of rock he found on one of his quick anchorings at one pacific island or another. He thought it was really pretty - and the reason I'm searching for it-" Duo turned the last seashell over, not finding it. "Not here. Okay, the reason I searched for it, was that it kinda resembles an emerald." 

"Emerald?" 

"Yeah. No, it isn't the real deal - it just looks a bit like it. A _good_ thief would know it wasn't valuable. A _bad_ thief would pocket it, 'just in case'." 

Heero began packing some of the clothes away again, pausing for one quick gesture urging Duo to do the same. "So, someone might have taken the rock. Why-" 

"The amulet is golden, isn't it?" 

Heero nodded. "So, you're thinking someone took both the green rock and the amulet because they thought they were valuable?" 

Duo put one arm to the table, used his free hand to open a plastic bag and shoved an armful of rocks and seashells into the back, dumb luck and concrete floor preventing the plastic from tearing. "Yeah - Probably some poor, stupid wretch of a scrap peddler or demolition welder that got greedy beyond the meager paycheck." 

Heero packed away some of the engine parts scattered about the floor. "Okay, given that you are right, we'll have to search out every firm that ever worked on the demolition of the _Peacemillion_ and investigate every single employee." 

Duo stuffed the dried-up flower wreath in a new bag along with two shirts still lying at the table, and shrugged. "Well... It's still better than assuming the little thing is destroyed or lost - after all, we found the other stuff from the same drawer here, and I don't think any of the other rocks are missing, so..." 

Heero sighed. "Yeah, you're right. It's the most logical course of action - but it's even more of a needle in the haystack to find now." 

He turned around only to face a grin. "What, giving up on the mission, Heero? Oh, I can't _wait_ to tell the other guys that the great Heero Yuy actually gave up on-" 

At that point, a strange reddish-pink green- and yellow-dotted creature attacked him, wrapping itself loosely around his head. Duo struggled to break free from the offending shirt, now smeared slightly with engine grease. Deciding not to leave the job half-done, Duo used the shirt to clean off as much of his still mucky face and hands as he could. He looked up to see Heero smirking back at him. "You can be a real annoyance sometimes." 

Far from dispirited, Duo just smiled back at him, stuffing the dirty shirt away with the engine parts. "Yeah, and everybody loves me for it!" 

Heero huffed again, but let the issue drop. They were done packing all of Howard's belongings away, and it was time to leave before the guards returned - for all they knew, the guards _could_ actually bother to check in early in the morning. 

------- 

Half an hour later, they had left behind Franklin Street, and were rapidly approaching Duo's salvage yard. It was still very early in the colony morning, and the lights high above had only barely begun to increase in intensity. Some of the shadier alleys were still winding down from a wild night, the wider streets slowly awakening. The two boys got a few odd stares from passers-by - more correctly, they stared at Duo, whose shabby appearance was still noticeable, despite having gotten at least some of the grease and dirt off his face and hands. 

As they walked by a bakery - one of the few shops along the street bustling with activity at the early hour - Heero stopped, and extended an arm to halt Duo as well. Duo first looked down at the hand on his chest, then at Heero. 

"Why the holdup?" 

"Remember when we left your house yesterday?" 

"Well, yeah - My memory isn't _that_ bad, Heero." 

"Do you remember making a promise?" 

"A promise? What pr-" He stopped, suddenly recollecting what Hilde had said about dinner. "Damn... I completely forgot about that. Hilde must be steaming by now. That, or she ordered pizza or something last night." 

Heero turned him to face the facade of the bakery. "At least you can try to make up for it with a proper breakfast, right?" 

With a grin, Duo put his hand to his shoulder, where Heero's hands were currently resting, and with a quick "Thanks, man," Duo ran into the bakery. Heero did his best to hide a smirk, but was not too surprised when Duo came running back out asking for more money - which he gladly contributed. After all, he wanted breakfast, too. 

------- 

As they walked up the gravel path to the door, both carrying assorted bakery goods, most of it things you'd never find on a dieter's list, Heero couldn't help but look at the windows for a fleeting shape. Detecting none, he offered to unlock and open the door. To his fortune, Hilde was asleep on the couch along the wall completely covered in knick-knacks - the other three living room walls still had about a total of a square foot of space left, remarkably enough. 

Duo poked his head in to see what caused the silence - after all, he had expected an immediate ruckus. Seeing Hilde asleep on the couch, he grinned impishly, put down the bags he was carrying by the door, and placed his forefinger across his lips, hushing Heero. Duo quietly took off his boots, and tip-toed over to Hilde, and was just about to assault her with tickles when the would-be victim awoke with a start, not hesitating to send one couch cushion directly in Duo's face. 

"Who- what-" It took her a moment to recognize the smudged boy. "Duo? What happened to you? What in space have you been up to, getting yourself covered in-" She ran a finger along his cheek, looked at the digit, tentatively taking a whiff of it. "Motor oil?!" 

Duo just snickered, rubbing his nose that had gone a little sore from the cushion attack, making a mental note to buy a sofa either with softer cushions, or cushions that couldn't be removed. "It's a long story, Hilde. I'll tell you all about it when I get time. Look, Heero and I stopped by a bakery on the way here - figured we might as well have a decent breakfast. I'm sorry I missed dinner yesterday. It's just that-" 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... You had fun and got carried away. I know." 

The scratching hand moved from nose to neck. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it _fun_, but-" 

"Oh, you had fun alright. Otherwise you wouldn't have skipped a meal. I ordered takeout as soon as I realized you two weren't coming back soon." 

Duo looked over to Heero, who was removing his sneakers. "See, Heero? I told you she'd order food when we weren't back by dinner time." 

Hilde smirked. "I ordered two minutes after you left. It was easy enough to see you guys wouldn't be back until whatever you were doing was over." 

With a shrug, Duo went back to the bakery bags, carrying some of them over to the kitchen nook. "Well... We're not exactly done." 

"You're not?" 

Heero took his share of the bags and dropped them off next to the rest. "Hilde, do you keep track of all the other salvage yards?" 

"Yeah, sure. Never hurts to know the opposition, you know." 

"Could you compile a list of all the yards that have or have had contracts on the _Peacemillion_ wreckage?" 

She shrugged, walking over to an leaning over the kitchen bench. "I guess... What for?" 

Heero took three glasses out of a cupboard, filling one with water. "Unfinished business." He took a sip. "We didn't find what we were looking for. Have to widen the search area." 

All the while, Duo was busy cramming a piece of pastry down his throat, accepted when Heero filled another glass with water and offered it to him, coughed a bit after swallowing too quickly, and accepted the napkin Hilde handed him to wipe away some stray crumbs and water splashes. "Look, I think I'll go get a shower and some new clothes - you two set the table or something. I'll be back right away, so don't even _think_ of eating everything before I return." 

And with that, the dark whirlwind was out the side door, Hilde's voice following him. "Duo, don't mix those clothes with the rest of the laundry, okay?" No acknowledgement came. Hilde smiled, sighed. "Heero, thanks." 

Heero handed her the third glass of water. "What for?" 

She took a sip. "For letting him have fun." 

"I didn't do anything. If that little outing made him happy, it was all because of his own doing." 

She smiled, making her way around the counter and into the kitchen nook. "I think you tend to underestimate things, Heero." 

He rid another paper bag of its contents. "I don't like exaggerations." 

"Except when dealing damage, self-destructing or self-deprecating?" 

He froze. 

Hilde stepped over to the end of the counter, and began fighting the quarrelsome coffee-maker. "No insult intended to your offer, Heero, but I need something stronger than water to really wake up in the morning. Duo tends to be the same way." 

Heero sat down on one of the wooden chairs by the small kitchen table next to the wall. After finally winning her fight with the coffee-maker, Hilde took three plates from a cupboard and put them on the table, along with a few knives from a drawer. From the back hallway, the sound of running water mixed with the huffs and puffs of the coffee-maker. She picked up her glass of water, held it up to the light in the ceiling, looking through it. 

"I think this is the single biggest expense of this household." 

"Water?" 

She emptied the glass in the sink, and put the glass down on the bench. "Yeah. The recycling systems do their best to reclaim water from the waste, but the system still needs to get added water - and you know how expensive cargo transports from Earth to the colonies can be - especially when 'local taxes' are applied." She sighed, and sat down opposite of Heero, leaving the only free end of the table for Duo. "At least the water reclamation systems work all the time - it's one of the few things the L2 government can't cut back maintenance on without a massive uproar. The weather system or artificial lighting can always be skimped on for a while." 

Heero took another gulp of his glass. "I take it you don't like living here?" 

"No, no - it's not that. This is home, for better or worse. I don't think I could get used to living anywhere else easily. It's just that when you see something that doesn't work in your home, you wish you could fix it - and until it is fixed, you at least have the right to complain about it." 

"The government?" 

She nodded. "The next election will hopefully clear things up a bit. As it is now, nearly all of the people in power are corrupt, to some extent. I don't blame them - they're just following an old L2 trait - do the best with what you have; take advantage of what you can. Hopefully, that'll be outgrown in the next generation of politicians - but I'm not counting on it. Anyway, like I said... This is home. I'm happy here. So is Duo, and you know how infectious his happiness can be." 

Heero didn't answer, but fought back a minute smirk as his eyes closed momentarily. The puffs of the coffee-maker turned into wheezes as the water tank ran dry. Hilde got up to remove the can, poured up a cup for herself, offered one to Heero - who politely refused, fingers clutched around his glass of water - and put the can back on the heating element. 

Heero took a knife and cut a piece of pastry in two, placing the slightly smaller half on his plate. "Hilde, would you consider Duo a shy person?" Waiting for an answer, he took a bite. 

Taken a bit by surprised, Hilde was at a loss for words. "Duo? Shy? Are we talking about the same person here?" 

Swallow. "I know it sounds like a stupid question - it's just that he became oddly... self-aware... during our little trip." 

She smiled. "I take it this has something to do with the fact the poor boy got soaked with motor oil... Well, you know Duo as well as I do - he's about as extrovert as they come, at least about most things. What happened?" 

Another sip of water. "He decided to crawl through an air duct - a very _small_ air duct. To help him get through, he took off all but his underwear and covered himself with engine grease to just slide through." 

Laughter. "Yeah, that sounds like one of Duo's plans, all right." 

"Then his unmentionables got caught up on something, and he had to leave them behind in the duct." 

More laughter. "Oh, I wish I had joined you guys." 

Still using his best stone face, Heero struggled with his next few words, not sure if he was betraying his friend by inquiring, or trying to help. "Anyway... He was very aware of his body - which I can't recall he has been in the past. Not to this level, anyway." 

Composing herself down to a friendly smile, Hilde put her hands on Heero's free hand, the other still clutching the glass. "Well, Duo isn't shy in the way he acts - he has no problem acting the fool in public - something I've suffered from more than I care to remember." 

Heero smirked. 

"And judging by your face, you have too." She snickered briefly. "He is a bit shy about nakedness, though. Once, he forgot to lock the bathroom door. I went in to get the hamper, and was faced with his bare rear, for the half second it lasted - Duo jumped behind the shower curtains and shouted at me to get out. Frankly, he sounded nearly hysteric." She sighed. "I tried to apologize later that day, and he shrugged it off, stating he was caught by surprise and didn't like to be walked in on like that. I believed him, but I always found it hard to think of him as modest..." Her eyes hardened, and the smile faded. "Do you think anything is wrong?" 

"No, not really. Maybe his reaction had more to do with who saw him." 

Hilde was taken aback, retreating her hands and sitting up straight in her chair. "You're suggesting he only reacted like that because _I_ got to catch a glimpse of him?" 

Another sip of water. "It's possible." 

Silence. 

"Hilde, if you don't mind me asking - what's your relationship to Duo?" 

A bit baffled by Heero's question, Hilde took a second to think of an answer. "We're friends - really good friends." 

"You don't love him?" 

Now Hilde was definitely wanting to evade the conversation, glaring at the far side corner of the table as she was. "That's a very direct and personal question, Heero." 

"You do, don't you?" 

She sighed, shrugged, slowly daring to resume eye contact. "He's my best friend, Heero. Do I care deeply for him? Of course I do. I - I just don't want to do anything, say anything that could jeopardize that friendship. He's all I got, and I don't want to risk losing that for anything." 

"Even if it could be something better?" 

"I don't know that - and like I said, I don't want to turn a good thing awkward. Duo's companionship means a lot to me. Being alone isn't fun at all - I know that from experience. One thing is that I don't know how he'd react, another is the fear he'd get scared. No offense, Heero - but guys your age aren't exactly renowned for their desire to make permanent commitments." 

He chuckled. "Point taken." 

She frowned. "I'm not sure you quite understand the value some people - like me - set on friendships, Heero. I don't think you know the fear that comes with risking a good friendship, much less your best one." 

His turn to sigh, for but a second closing his eyes. "No. I know _exactly_ how you feel, Hilde. Knowing what I feel, but not being able to express it, out of fear? Knowing how empty it feels to be all alone? Oh, I know that situation a bit _too_ well." 

She appeared puzzled. "Relena?" 

Heero didn't answer, merely took another sip of his water. 

"By what Duo told me, she sounded like she was head over heels for you." 

The glass impacted the wooden table just a tad harder than Heero intended. "We've drifted apart, I guess. She has a world or three to manage now. Balancing the colonies up against Earth, the Luna settlement and the fledgling Mars colony and keep it all fair and out in the open is no easy task." 

"No time left for you, then?" 

He smirked, just slightly. "I guess..." 

Hilde folded her hands. "Coming from me, this might sound hypocritical - but I think you should tell her exactly how you feel. That is, after you admit it to yourself." 

Heero's turn to frown. "What do you mean?" 

"I don't think you've been able to convince _yourself_ how you feel, Heero - or how much you're really worth, to yourself and others. If you had, would you still be sitting here talking to _me_?" 

He didn't answer, taking another bite of the pastry. 

She reached for a Danish. "Well, I'm only suggesting, Heero." She smiled. "Perhaps I'll take my own advice some day." 

For a few minutes, they ate in silence. Then, accompanied by a slight curse from stubbing his bare toe against the threshold, Duo appeared in the doorway to the back hallway, for the occasion dressed in blue rather than black. After rubbing his sore toe, he staggered to the free seat, reaching for a sizable portion of the baked goods. Hilde got up to get him a cup of coffee, which he gladly accepted, frown turning into a grin. 

"Thanks, Hilde." 

She leaned against the counter, folding her arms, smirking. "Feeling blue rather than dark today?" 

He shrugged. "Had only one black outfit left out of the laundry cycle. I'm keeping that in reserve - I'm sure Heero and I will have more adventures that are hazardous for my clothes." 

Heero huffed. "You put yourself in that mess - don't try to pin any of the blame on me." 

Duo stuffed his grin with a cinnamon roll. 

Emptying his glass of water and putting it back to the table, Heero turned to Hilde. "Where did you keep those records of the competition?" 

"They're in the little office down the hall. I'll go get them - you only wanted the companies involved with the salvage operation of _Peacemillion_, right?" 

Heero nodded. 

"It's still a big list." 

Heero sighed. "Can't be helped. We have to go through each company, get all personnel records and review each employee. It's the only hope we have of finding what we're looking for." 

With a curt nod, Hilde was out the opening to the rear hallway, leaving the two boys - or rather, Duo - to finish the impromptu breakfast. Said lad nearly choked on a Danish when Hilde's voice, in a rather shrill tone, came from the hallway. 

"Duo! Feed the fish, would you?" 

"Why? Didn't you do it last night?" he shouted back. 

"Your fish, your responsibility! Don't make me come out there and make you do it - _again_." 

Duo growled, rolled his eyes, but nevertheless put down his coffee cup and got up. Past the counter and over by the fish tank he sought out the can of fish fodder amidst the little jungle of plants, and sprinkled the tiny colorful bits at the water. Something wasn't quite right, though. First suspecting he'd poured too much of the food in the water - which had led to tragic circumstances in times past - he determined there had to be some other reason for why the fish tank seemed more colorful than it had the day before. A closer study revealed what looked like a disco inferno pinned between the treasure chest and the castle. Small rays of blue, red and green blinked out from the little, slowly rotating top on the black casing housing the engine mechanism and, most likely, a tiny light source. 

"Hilde?" he yelled, only to look up and find her standing by the kitchen table, having handed Heero a small stack of papers. 

"Don't shout, Duo. I'm right here." 

He grinned. "Sorry, didn't hear you come back - anyway, what's this new thingummyjig - that little disco light thingy?" 

She smiled. "Oh, that. Well, you brought back those old movie posters for the single open section of wall left, so it was my turn to get something. I bought that from a peddler when I was down at the market yesterday." 

Duo returned to study the addition. "I thought you said you ordered takeout." 

"I was at the market in the morning, Duo - had to do something after I read that note of yours. Figured a walk would help me vent some of my anger." 

He grinned. "Hey, I told you I was sorry. I-" 

The little trinket had slowly spun yet again, and the triangular golden shape now showed a carving - a jar spilling water. Duo hesitated for but a moment, then rolled up his right sleeve and sent his arm down into the aquarium, scaring the fish inside the castle and treasure chest. He grabbed the rotating little object, and pulled it out of the water. Along the bottom, he found an off-switch, which he flipped, killing the spin and the light. 

Hilde came over to the counter, looking none to happy. "Hey - what are you doing, Duo? We have a deal, remember?" 

Noticing the bits of blue, green and red plastic taped to the golden triangle, Duo tried getting the bits off with his fingernails. "Where did you say you got this from?" 

"I told you, I bought it down on the market. Was a guy selling all kinds of odd stuff. That one kinda caught my eye - hey, don't destroy it!" 

Too late; Duo had already pealed off the red tape. Green and blue followed. His grin grew ever greater. "Heero, I think you have to come see this..." 

Carefully, he tried bending the black plastic end aside, clutching the token as it was. With a snap, it gave in, releasing the amulet. Duo tossed the small black engine and light casing aside, mesmerized by his discovery and turn of fortune. 

Hilde grew ever more upset, Heero now standing beside her behind the counter. "Duo! You broke it! That's it, I'm ripping your posters to shreds." 

That, if nothing else, brought Duo back to the real world. Well, at least partly. Euphoria is not a state easily escaped. "Oh, sorry, Hilde - but I think this is the thing Heero and I was looking for! Heero, look!" 

He held it up triumphantly, delighting in the slight widening of Heero's eyes. Heero reached out an open hand, obviously wanting to inspect it for himself. Duo placed it in his palm, still grinning. 

Heero held it up, twisted and turned it to inspect it from every angle, carefully studying each of the transparent plastic cuts in the metallic construction, registering the symbol as a precise match to the photo of the Aquarius token. "I agree. I think this is it." 

Duo threw both arms in the air in victory, ran across to get the bag he'd packed just minutes previous, fishing out a pair of socks which he tried to put on while strapping the bag over one shoulder and skipping over to the door to get his boots. "Come on, Heero - Let's get going! I'm sure Une wants this thing ASAP." 

Trying not to show any signs of the same enthusiasm Duo did, Heero nodded while barely covering a smile, wiped the token dry on his pants and put it in his pocket. 

Hilde walked alongside him as they headed for the door, anger faded to a gentle frown. "Duo, you broke one of my things for the house - I know it means something to find... _whatever_ that is, but you could at least apologize for-" 

She was cut short by an eager hug, not to mention the pair of lips that ever so briefly met hers a split second later. She was, putting it mildly, stunned. 

By the looks of it, so was the other two - Heero with his jacket halfway on, Duo standing there with one boot and bag balancing off one shoulder, blank face at last showing signs that he had realized what he'd just done. "Oh, uhm..." 

With a flash, he had put on the second boot, thrown his jacket over his shoulders and grabbed Heero's wrist, the other hand at the door knob. "Uhm, Hilde - we're just leaving - Have to get this thing to Lady Une ASAP, will be back soon, promise! I'll call you!" 

And with that, he opened the door and ran out to the street hauling Heero after him. He had dragged his friend down half a block before Heero managed to stop him. Freeing himself from the wrist shackle, Heero placed one hand on Duo's right shoulder, gently trying to shake some sense into the boy. "Duo, next time you decide to panic - could you _please_ wait until I get my shoes on?" 

Duo's puzzled eyes looked down to find an answer. Heero did indeed wear just socks, the trademark yellow sneakers held in his left hand. Duo grinned. "Err... Sorry about that, Heero. I just - I just... Hey, you didn't drop the amulet, did you?" 

Heero reached into his pocket, fishing out the token, flashing it for reassurance before putting it back. 

Duo sighed, still smiling. "Oh, good." 

The yellow sneakers met the pavement, and Heero bent down to put them on. "Breathe, Duo. Breathe." 

Order acknowledged. 

"Care to tell what just happened?" 

"I kissed Hilde." 

Heero smirked. "Yeah, I saw that much. From the reactions both of you had, I take it you haven't done that before?" 

Duo shook his head. "Damn, how am I supposed to go back home after that - I mean, I like her, I really do - but I'm just seventeen - I'm not ready to commit to-" 

"Something lasting?" 

"No, it's not that, it's just-" Duo shrugged dejectedly. "Never mind." 

Tying the second shoe, Heero stood up, placing one hand yet again on Duo's shoulder. "It helps to talk." 

Duo chuckled. "Now, there's something I hadn't expected to hear from _you_, of all people." 

A grunt, arm dropping, briefly evasive eyes. 

"I agree, though. Just think it's Hilde I need to talk to." He sighed. "I'll do it when this thing is over with, I guess. Have to come home sometime - after all, all my things is still there, and there's no way I'm abandoning all that stuff." Duo grinned, folding his arms. 

Heero's face remained deadpan. 

"Heero, care to tell me what it was you retrieved from _Peacemillion_?" 

No answer. 

"I found the cubicle that had your stuff in it. Saw the wood and glass splinters." Duo swore he could see Heero's bottom lip move ever so slightly. "Those were picture frames once, weren't they?" 

Heero's jaw momentarily drooped, and he looked away. 

Duo's turn to offer a supporting hand on the shoulder. "Heero... If you don't want to talk about it, I'll respect that - but I warn you, I'll remain curious, and you know how I can be when-" 

"Group shots." 

"Huh?" 

"They were group shots - pictures of all of us pilots. Like the ones back on your living room walls." 

Duo just stared at him, slight surprise fading into a warm smile. Heero glared at him again, before the harsh eyes grew weary, dimmed, almost tired. It was clear the next few words didn't come all that easy. 

"I went to get them after I was discharged from the hospital back in January. You guys were all gone, and... I felt lonely. Wanted something to remind me of... friends." 

"So, you just went after the photos?" 

Heero nodded. 

"Why didn't you just visit one of us?" 

Heero's gaze became evasive again, and he turned slightly sideways, folding his arms. "I just - I needed to be alone, okay? I missed you guys, but I didn't want to admit I needed anything. Least of all-" 

"Friendship? Companionship? Other people?" 

After looking intensely at the ground at his feet for a few seconds, Heero nodded. "I went away to think about what I wanted to do with my life. I've always been the soldier, but now, without any real wars, and with the pledge I made not to kill anymore, I felt lost. Was hoping to find some solution on my own." He looked directly at Duo, who was listening intently, reading the question off his face. "I didn't have time to come to any conclusion." 

"Okay... So, basically, you don't know what you want to do, and you don't know if you want to be 'dependent' on having friends?" 

Heero didn't reply. 

"Okay, listen - when you're done thinking... Why don't you come live with Hilde and me for a while? We got a spare room, kinda... Just have to toss out some old junk first, but... Well, anyways, we could always use another hand on the yard, and if you've kept that sense of neatness you used to have, I'm sure you'd be plenty helpful. Hilde and I aren't as good at keeping things orderly - well, I'm not, anyway, and-" 

Heero raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" 

"Sure I am! Never hurts to have another to share the household budget with, right?" 

Slight hesitation. "I'll think about it." 

Duo slapped Heero's back. "That's all I'm asking, buddy. Now, let's get that trinket to Lady Une, shall we?" 

Heero nodded. 

They had only gotten half a block closer to the spaceport when Duo's beeper went off. He fished it out of his backpack and read the number. "Doesn't ring a bell. It isn't the number Lady Une used - looks more like a payphone number." 

"Where's the closest vidphone?" 

"Aren't that many public vidphones on L2 - there's one at the spaceport, I think." 

And so, but a few minutes later, two panting boys tried to regain their breath from their quick run, while Heero checked his pockets for change for the phone. He handed his findings to Duo, who stepped into the little phone booth, grabbing Heero by the arm in the process, pulling him in. Quick fingers typed in the number, and for a few seconds, there was nothing but the hums of the phone dialing and the stressed breathing of the two ex-pilots. The screen flickered, before Quatre's distraught face appeared from the static. Duo just grinned in greeting. 

"Hi, Quatre - we found the piece! What about you two?" 

Quatre smiled, but it was all to clear it was a strained one. "Hello, Duo. I'm glad to hear that - we found ours too, but... There's been some events." 

"What events?" 

Quatre sighed, smile gone again. "Lady Une just called us, and told me to relay the messages to you. You're to go back to Earth as fast as possible." He looked past Duo, at Heero. "Heero, you're to meet me in Vienna. Duo, you're to follow him down to the spaceport, and get new directions from there. Call Lady Une and let her know which spaceport you'll land at - she'll probably send a courier for the amulet." 

Duo wasn't too happy about working on this little info, though, and it came through in his stressful voice. "Quatre, what happened? Where's Trowa?" 

"Trowa is to meet Lady Une for another operation - she found the location of another piece, and wanted Trowa's help in-" 

"Fine, so he's okay - what events were you talking about, Quatre? It's not like you to be so upset for just a new set of orders, and-" 

"Duo... Sally called Lady Une - Wufei has gone missing." 

------- 

-end Aquarius-   
-TBC?- 

AN: Thanks for reading this far; appreciate it. Would be even more thrilled if you told me what you thought of the story so far - critique gladly accepted; any and all feedback you can offer is deemed useful. :-) 

  
  
  
  
  



	4. Leo

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
Leo   


AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue.   
Never thought I could have this chapter out in less than two weeks. I just hope it doesn't bear too many marks of being rushed - let me know if you think so. And yes, I know this story is somewhat predictable. :-) 

-------------- 

The space dock of the main L3 colony was as busy as ever - that is, one had to struggle through the crowds like a plow through mud. There were passengers waiting to depart, relatives waiting for arrivals, in-transit groups, cargo shipments, mail deliveries, imports, exports, tourists, port peddlers, street entertainers and two ex-pilots trying to get through the fluid mass of people. Fortunately, the two boys traveled light; one had a small backpack, the other a duffle bag. To the blond, the walk through the spaceport corridors to the bustling streets of L3 seemed to take more time than the express flight that had carried them up here in the first place, and he was less than thrilled about it, though showing but a slight upset over it. The brown-haired one gave no impression of caring either way. It wasn't until they got out on a proper sidewalk the two got a decent chance to talk. 

"Okay, Trowa - Where should we begin our search?" 

The taller boy stopped walking, shrugged. "Anywhere. Lady Une said the last known location of Ziegler was this L3 colony." 

"That was nineteen years ago, Trowa - how could we possibly pick up a trail that cold?" 

Again, a shrug. "We'll think of something. Have faith." 

A sigh. "Okay. Brainstorming time - first things first... Nineteen years ago, this colony - as all colonies were under the control of the Alliance, right?" 

"Correct." 

"And travel was very restricted back then, and every little journey to and from the colonies logged." 

Trowa nodded. 

"And the Preventers have searched through all the old Alliance records, showing one Herbert Ziegler arriving here, but no record shows him leaving. That would indicate that as long as the Alliance controlled this place, Ziegler - and hopefully, the amulet - stayed here." 

Again, a nod. 

"That's about all we know. Which means, we have hopefully narrowed the search area down to one colony. Mr. Ziegler could still have left in the recent years, or he could have smuggled the amulet out on any shipment or person leaving this place, or he could have bribed the right people and left L3 that way - there are just too many uncertainties, and we _still_ don't know where to start!" 

"Quatre, breathe." 

Compliance. 

"First of all... Nineteen years ago, visitors were rare. I'm sure some of the locals noticed Ziegler back then, and might give us some clues as to what happened. We could go to Colony Hall and ask for the local travel records and match those against the files the Preventers have. We could search the black markets and see if anyone remembers trading something similar to the amulet - it is painted in gold color, isn't it?" 

Quatre nodded. "Yes, it is. It's still a stab in the dark, though." 

Trowa placed his hand on Quatre's shoulder. "We have to start somewhere. Might as well try, unless you have any better ideas?" 

Quatre pushed the hand away. "No, your ideas are good. I just feel like I'm doing some Herculean task - one that can't possibly be solved." 

"Hercules accomplished his tasks, didn't he?" 

Quatre's worried face turned into a smile, and a slight chuckle. "Yeah... All twelve of them - and was rewarded with godhood, insanity and ultimately an excruciatingly painful and tragic death. Let's hope our luck is better than his." 

Trowa gave a vague smile. "Right... Colony Hall is somewhere down the third street to our left, I think. Let's start there." 

With an approving nod from Quatre, they were off. 

For about a few hundred meters, anyway. A soft, sobbing sound in the sea of street noises caught Quatre's attention, and in no seconds flat the empathic soul was hurriedly walking down a poorly lit alley, seeking out the source of the sobs. He found a little boy, age not possibly more than seven, sitting along one of the side walls, hugging his knees and crying his eyes out. Quatre crouched next to the child, and gently tried to dry away the tears with his hand. Trowa kept his distance, thinking it not prudent to overwhelm the toddler with strangers, especially bigger strangers. The tears and sobs died down a bit, but the young boy suddenly became aware of Quatre, and shunned away a bit, crawling a few feet back. 

"It's okay. Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you." 

The toddler was not convinced. 

"I'm Quatre. The man back there is Trowa. What's your name?" 

"I - I'm Ted." 

Quatre smiled. "Hi, Ted." He paused for just a bit. "Why were you crying, Ted?" 

"I shouldn't be talking to you." 

"Oh?" 

"My grandpa says I shouldn't talk to strangers." 

Quatre chuckled. "Then your grandfather is a smart man. He's right. But you already know my name, so we're not really strangers, are we?" 

Ted thought about it. "No... I guess not." He wiped away the last tears on his cheeks. 

"I'd like to help you if you want, Ted. Why were you crying?" 

Again, Ted hesitated going against his grandfather's advice, but Quatre's loophole worked for him. "I got lost." 

Quatre suppressed a chuckle at the thought, nearly blurting out 'Is that all?', but fortunately biting his tongue in time. For an adult or adolescent it might seem a small issue, but to a young child, the world is a big and dangerous place, one not easily ventured into alone or unguided. "Oh. Well, Trowa and I can help you find your way home, if you want." 

Ted nodded, but still clutched his knees. Quatre offered his hand, and after a few seconds looking at it and thinking things over, Ted accepted, and they both got to their feet. Trowa was leaning towards one of the walls by the alley entrance, arms folded, look as saddened yet enigmatic as ever. In it, Quatre saw the silent reminder that helping lost children wasn't why they were here, and that they didn't have any time to lose. Barely aware of it, Quatre's face changed to one as pleading as a puppy dog or infant, and it evidently had an effect. Trowa rolled his eyes skyward, one as so often obscured by brown strands, and stepped out of the alley ahead of the other two. 

"Ted, do you know the address of your home?" 

The kid shook his head. 

"Okay... What is your full name?" 

"Ted." 

"You don't have a last name?" 

"Everyone calls me Ted. Why?" 

Quatre smiled, clutching Ted's hand just a bit harder. "Never mind. Do you know the names of your parents?" 

Ted shook his head. 

"Don't you live with your parents, Ted?" 

Again, he shook his head. "I live with grandpa, above his shop." 

"Shop? What kind of shop?" 

"A shoe store. He makes them in a little workshop in the back." 

Quatre looked at Trowa, without a word asking for advice. 

Trowa shrugged. "I guess we'll just ask for directions to the nearest shoe store." Quatre agreed, and they walked a bit further down the street, first asking a patrolling police officer, who despite wanting to be helpful wasn't all that familiar with the colony yet, having recently moved there from Earth. Next, they asked an elderly lady, who in return for help carrying her groceries directed them to the only shoe store she knew of, other than the one at the new mall. As they walked into the right street, Ted's grip around Quatre's hand loosened just a bit. 

"Do you recognize this street, Ted?" 

Ted nodded. 

There were several small shops, but most were pretty run-down, many closed and boarded up. The few rubbish bins were pretty full, and a few were overflowing onto the street, which had evidently not been swept for some time. A shaggy stray cat ducked down an alley as they approached, and hissed defensively from within the dark as they walked past. Beyond yet another closed-up shop, plywood crudely covering the windows, they came upon the shoe store. Ted let go of Quatre's hand, and ran inside to the clings of a small bell mounted at the top of the doorway. Before Trowa could stop him, Quatre had followed, probably wanting to take part in the joy of returning home the toddler was experiencing. With that, the bell chimed for a third time. 

Ted was hugging an short, stocky elderly man, big white moustache and hair in due for a cut compensating for the shiny bald spot. While Ted let a few more tears fall, his grandfather just smiled, chuckling at it all. He noticed the other two, and motioned them to sit at the bench parked in the middle of the small store, while he took Ted's hand and walked behind the counter where there was a chair for himself, slightly elevated on a podium, an oddity stuck between the counter and the shelves along most of the back wall presenting a great variety of footwear. He put the toddler on his lap, a flash grimace indicating the extra weight wasn't entirely painless to his aging body. The smile returned, even if just a bit strained. "Thank you, boys. I'm guessing Ted got lost again, huh?" He chuckled, voice and laughter as wrinkled as his forehead. "Ted, did you give them the note?" 

The boy shook his head, fishing the piece of paper out of his pocket. 

The old man sighed. "What did I tell you about that note, Ted?" 

"Can't remember." 

"Well, _that_ much is obvious, young man. I told you to hand that to an adult if you were lost - a policeman, if you saw one." He paused, looking to Quatre and Trowa. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. Ted here has a habit of getting lost when playing outside - I wrote down this address on a piece of paper, along with the phone number and some other things, hoping that would make it easier for him to get home. I guess I'll have to think of some other plan. Anyway, thank you for bringing him back." He eyed Quatre's backpack and Trowa's duffle bag. "You lads on a vacation, or something?" 

Quatre shook his head. "We were just looking for something, and found Ted instead." 

Ted's grandfather smiled. "And for that I'm glad." He turned to his grandchild. "Ted, why don't you go upstairs and play? You won't get lost up there, I hope - though your room _could_ use a bit of tidying up..." 

"But my room isn't messy, grandpa - _I_ know where everything is." 

Chuckle. "I'm sure you do, but with your toys all over the floor, I'm afraid to enter - After I nearly slipped when I stepped on that fire truck of yours last month-" 

"But I cleaned up after that!" 

Another chuckle. "You sure did. Okay, go upstairs now, Ted. I have to insist you clean at least part of the floor, though - I want a clear path so I can come hug you goodnight tonight." 

"Okay..." Defeated, Ted retreated through the curtains acting as a door to the room behind the store. 

The elderly man slapped his hands together and gave them a good rub. "Now, where were we? Oh, I completely forgot - I'm Jones - Augusto Jones." He jumped out of his chair with a vigor one would have trouble realizing was there, and extended his hand to Quatre. 

Whom graciously accepted. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones. My name is Quatre Raberba Winner, and this is Trowa Barton." 

Augusto offered a handshake to Trowa too - whom also accepted, though with far more hesitation than Quatre. "Well, gentlemen - thank you again for bringing Ted back. I swear, I'll have to tie the kid to the front door with a rope or something soon." The grin bore every sign he was joking. "I'm afraid I can't really compensate you for your trouble, though - best I could offer would be a discount on a pair of shoes." He quickly surveyed the feet of both boys. "And neither of you appear to be needy in that department at present. Shame, really. One should always be on the lookout for good shoes - never know when the ones you have go out on you, literally." Chuckling at his joke, Augusto returned to the chair behind the counter. 

The slight mention of finances stuck to Quatre's mind, and before he could check the question with the sentimental subroutines of his mind, it went out in the air. "Business isn't going all that well?" 

"Did the street give you a different impression?" The elderly man sighed, smile gone. "Things were fine until just two years ago. They say peace is good for business. Well, that isn't true for everybody. This shoe store - this whole shopping street - thrived for nearly two decades. When the Alliance crumbled and all that other ruckus ended, travel and import restrictions were lifted too. Enter mass-production and cheap imports. None of the shops here could really compete with that. We were all manufacturers as well as vendors here - had to be. With the tight control the Alliance held, getting large quantities of finished goods through was nigh-on impossible. You could get some shipments through if you knew which wheels to grease in the military machinery, but other than that you were out of luck. I wasn't, though - found a way to bring in decent quality leather and everything else I needed to set up shop." Augusto's eyes glazed over slightly. "When _my_ grandfather taught me the basics of shoemaking over half a century ago, I never thought I'd actually be earning a living from it - it was a family tradition to learn how to make shoes, one that hadn't really been taken seriously for generations. Strange, isn't it? Ever since the era of mass production, people are neglecting to keep the arts and crafts of old alive - all but a few die-hard individuals and traditionalists." He shook his head. "Anyway, with imports made easy, it didn't take long for some crafty soul to set up a mall, which soon filled with chain stores seeking new markets. That was the end of this street. This store is pretty much all that's left. Ella Frisch locked the door to her candy shop a few days ago, and Vichiez' hardware store will probably close in a few weeks. Poor Vichiez is hoping to retire early, but that depends on the new pension plans the colonies are drafting up - I swear, those young punks in office doesn't seem to think senior citizens needs more than half of minimum wage levels to survive." Augusto frowned, but cleared as quickly. "Oh, excuse me. I keep digressing. In short, business is not going all that well, Mr. Winner. But I get by. That's the good thing about knowing your customers, and being able to truly shape the shoe they need - and make a good shoe. The artificial stuff from the mall just doesn't last - but that's the point, isn't it? Make the shoe so it wears out quickly, so the customer will be back for another pair." He huffed, slightly annoyed at the thought. "Of course, since I make shoes that last, it can take many years between each time I see a customer - except the ones with kids, of course. Thank God for letting children grow out of their shoes." The smile returned below the white moustache, though weary. 

Trowa had noted how Quatre's gaze had fallen steadily during Augusto's rant, and saw how the smile slowly died. It was all too clear what the blond was doing; taking the blame on himself any way he could. Confirmation of this came soon enough. 

"I - I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. For all I know, I could have interests in that mall. I run a fairly large-" 

"Yes, yes, yes - I know who you are, young Mr. Winner. Recognized you the minute you walked through the door - well, a few minutes later, at least. I might be old, but I still pay attention to the world around me. The press wasn't exaggerating when they called you youthful - what are you, sixteen?" 

"Seventeen." 

"Same thing. You might disagree, being young. When you're as old as me, anything below forty is too immature." Augusto smiled, slowly seeing the same as Trowa did. "Look, son - the Winner Corporation is huge, and I seriously doubt you know what every one of your employees do, including investors, vendors, manufacturers, daughter companies, whatnot. Don't take on the responsibility of them, or their actions. Take responsibility for what _you_ do, or don't do. In this matter, I doubt you had any knowledge or influence whatsoever. I have no grudge against you, quite the contrary." 

Quatre's smile returned, albeit slowly. "Thank you, Mr. Jones." 

"Enough of this 'mister' business. Call me Augusto. All my customers and friends do. Being called 'mister' makes me feel more old than being called 'grandpa'." 

Quatre chuckled. "Thank you, Augusto. Please call me Quatre. I'm not too fond of formalities either." 

"I can imagine - that corporation of yours must bury you in them." 

Smile, but no answer. 

From above, you could hear Ted crash some toy or another - or himself - onto the floor, noise level suggesting he was about to come through the ceiling. Augusto briefly looked up, then at Quatre, chuckling. "I know some people who frowns upon noisy kids. I'm just happy for it - as long as there's a racket, I know he's alive." 

Trowa put his hand on Quatre's shoulder, no words necessary to state the reminder. Quatre nodded in agreements. 

"I'm sorry, Augusto, but Trowa and I should get going. We really need to start our search." 

"Alright, I won't stop you - thanks again for bringing Ted home. My offer still stands, but I can't give you more, I'm afraid." 

Quatre hesitated for but a moment, thinking it over and most definitely seeking advise in the sentimental subroutines neglected earlier. "Actually - I think I'll take you up on your offer. You said one should always keep an eye out for good shoes. I'd like to buy a pair." 

"Me too." Trowa added, sensing what Quatre was doing, and not intending to be any less generous. 

Again, Augusto slapped his hands together in a solid, nearly miserly rub. "Good, good, good. Now, where did I put the measuring instruments...?" 

------- 

Soon after, Augusto had taken down all the measurements he needed from the bare feet of both boys, and had with the style requests from either gotten his bearings towards the envisioned shoes. "Thank you, gentlemen. I think I have all the bits I need for these out back. Shouldn't be too hard to craft these ones, they're fairly simple. Might take me half a day or so, but I doubt I'll have a rush of customers today." He grinned. "Say, what are you two searching for, anyway? Aren't that many business prospects on this colony that might interest the Winner Corporation, I'd imagine." 

Quatre cast a glance at Trowa, seeking permission. Trowa simply shrugged, and set Quatre off. "We're looking for a man that passed through here years ago." 

"Is that so? How far back?" 

"Nineteen years." 

Augusto whistled a descending tone. "That's a while ago." 

Quatre nodded. "We thought we'd start at Colony Hall, try to get travel records from back then, and attempt to trace him that way." 

The elderly man shook his head. "I doubt you'll find anything there. Travel was restricted and logged, yes - but like I said, if you knew which wheels to grease, you could get nearly anything through. A person wouldn't be that much of a challenge." 

Shoulders slouching, Quatre sighed. "Well, we don't really know where else to start - there aren't any places that keep a more permanent record of comings and goings than customs. 

Augusto grinned. "On this colony, that's not entirely true. I think the two of you should drop by _The Happy Hippo_ - it's a bar down on Winston Avenue. Don't let the exterior fool you, it's a nice place. Mick Raleigh ran that bar for nearly forty years before he retired, passing the business on to his son, Oscar - good kid, but he lacks the talent of his father." 

A single brow lowered in half a frown. "Why would a bar visit help our search?" 

"Trowa, trust me - if there is any place that keeps a permanent record of comings and goings on this colony, it's _The Happy Hippo_. Mick has a way of remembering everything that has ever taken place in that bar. Back after the Alliance takeover, his bar was the only one that kept open through the initial import difficulties - I think Mick was the first to realize how to traffic things in to keep business open. Anyway, if this man you're searching for ever stopped by _The Happy Hippo_, Mick will have a record of it. Don't know if your friend was likely to visit bars, but I still think it's something worthwhile checking on. I'm sure Mick can give you some ideas of who to ask, if nothing else." 

As so often, Quatre beamed. "Thank you, Augusto. We might do that - but didn't you say Mr. Raleigh's son took over the business?" 

Augusto chuckled. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean Mick left. He took up permanent residency in one of the corner booths. Can't miss him - he'll be the odd fellow with two or three thick books on the table, sitting in the best lit area of the entire bar - and that isn't much, anyway. He might not look like it, but he's a friendly guy. He never could remember a name or face, so he was friendly with everyone ordering, assuming they were all regular customers. Made his life easier, and made plenty of repeat customers and regulars, too. His mind probably began slipping when he was still in his mother's womb." 

This time, Quatre was the one to flash-frown. "If he has trouble remembering things, how can he remember some little thing from decades back?" 

Augusto smirked, using his right hand to twirl the tip of his big moustache. "Oh, Mick has a very special memory, Quatre. You just give him the right date, and he'll tell you all you want to know about that day, and then some." 

Quatre was still puzzled, but shrugged it off, trusting Augusto as he'd so easily trust other friendly strangers. He was about to pick up his backpack when Augusto interrupted. 

"If you're going straight for _The Happy Hippo_, you don't need your luggage, do you? You can leave it here, if you like - You'll both be back for the shoes before nightfall anyway, right? Oh, one more thing - could you remind Mick the shoes he ordered are ready? I've only told him half a dozen times or so, so he'll need a few more reminders, I guess." 

The backpack went over the counter for safe-keeping, and after a brief argument of mere eye contact, Trowa's duffle bag followed. "We'll do that. Thank you, Augusto." 

The shopkeeper smiled. "No need to, Quatre - don't give thanks until you find who you're looking for. No reason to be grateful for nothing, is it?" 

Quatre just smiled, nodded, and followed Trowa out the door, making sure to close it behind him. Half a block later, Trowa broke the silence. 

"I don't understand how you keep doing it." 

"Do what?" 

"Convince me to do just about anything you set your mind to - we left our belongings with a complete stranger. Augusto could be going through them right now." 

Quatre giggled. "I doubt he'd do that - you need to learn to trust people, Trowa." 

"And _you_ need to learn some cynicism. Not all people are trustworthy, Quatre - you could end up seriously hurt if you keep-" 

"Trowa, if I stop believing in the good that is in people, wouldn't that make the good in _me_ disappear? I don't want to second-guess, doubt and make careful evaluations of every person I meet - that's the wrong way of making new acquaintances, and a really bad way of making friends. You're not a total cynic yourself, you know - you trusted me from the start, remember?" 

Trowa's turn to chuckle. "Well, you had a mercenary army of forty nearby, and I was out of ammo. I didn't have much to lose by seeking your friendship." 

Sunbeam. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" 

"What was?" 

"Our friendship? It was worth making that little sacrifice of doubts, right?" 

A thin smile in return. "Yeah. It was." Brief pause. "I got Heavyarms fixed for free, after all." 

Quatre laughed. They came upon a crossroads, which according to the sign post before them crossed the street they were leaving with Winston Avenue. "What do you say, Trowa - shall we go with Augusto's idea first? I'm curious about this Mick character." 

"Have to admit, I'm a bit curious too." He shrugged. "Guess there's no harm in going there first - Colony Hall isn't going anywhere." 

And with that, they took the left turn leading down Winston Avenue, which was a bit more tidy than the shopping street, not to mention far more crowded - that is, there was actually _people_ here, not merely strays, be they animal or human. One of the streets on the right side was even more packed with people - and looming in the not-so distant low skyline of the area was the reason; the new mall Augusto had mentioned. Judging by the flow both up and down that street, it was probably doing quite well. Once past this offshoot, Winston Avenue became somewhat desolate again, and it was again possible to talk without risk of being overheard. 

"Quatre?" 

"Hm?" 

"Back in the conference room, you said all of us but Duo had been at Earth when the beeper went off..." 

"Yeah - I mean, I came there not that long before Duo, and I was on Earth, so I figured-" 

"Why were you on Earth? I thought the Winner Corporation's headquarters was still located at L4." 

"It is - that doesn't mean I never _leave_, Trowa. I visited your circus this summer, didn't I?" 

A vague nod. 

"You gave me some scares, though - seeing you up there right under the big top with the trapeze and everything - I could barely watch, fearing I'd see you plummet to the ground." 

Thin smile. "You worry too much, Quatre. I don't take unnecessary risks." 

Laughter. "Yeah, _right_. Compare that phrase with your war record, and tell me if you don't like taking risks." 

"Calculated risks and foolhardy risks. There's a difference. I might have done the first a few times, but I generally think things through." 

Shrug, smile. "Maybe - I'm glad to see you've advanced beyond just being target practice for Ms. Bloom, though." 

Trowa bit his bottom lip, albeit hardly noticeable. "I still do that, Quatre - to tell the truth, I only took to the trapeze because you were visiting. Wanted to give you a better show than the usual." 

"Really? Well, if you wanted to give me a good time, you could just have offered me a cup of tea and a chat instead, Trowa - no need to risk life and limb on my behalf." 

Chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind for the next time you visit. I wanted to talk to you after the show, but I couldn't find you." 

Quatre immediately took to studying the sidewalk. "Yeah... I want to apologize for that - I got an emergency call from the company, and I had to attend a vidphone conference that seemed to last forever. By the time it was done, your circus had already packed up and left." 

"We never stay in one place for very long - we had been there for nearly a week as it was." 

"I saw that on the poster - look, I'm really sorry I just disappeared. I really wanted to talk, it's just-" 

"That's okay, Quatre. You have a big company to run, I respect that. I'm a bit surprised you have the time to do this, though. I mean, if you were so busy back then, what's to prevent you from having to run off during this mission?" 

Slight sensation of guilt gone, sunbeam returned. "Well... Actually, I was on Earth for a vacation. I'm not due back at the company for at least two weeks. I've already called to let them know I might need even more time away. I don't like lying, so I just haven't told them why. Better to let them think I'm really overworked, and in need of some stress relief." 

Sole eyebrow rising. "Quatre, you shouldn't have cancelled your vacation for this - I'm sure the rest of us could handle this just fine on our own. If you're stressed out, this isn't what you should be doing." 

"I think you're wrong, Trowa. It's _exactly_ what I should be doing. Augusto showed me something - I risk losing my perspective on things if I stay within that office forever. Everything turns into numbers. You forget there's people in the numbers. I think I should treasure any chance I get at gathering impulses elsewhere - I wasn't really cut out to be a corporate executive anyway. There's so many other things I'd rather do than sit in an office. If I didn't take breaks every so often, I would lose my mind." 

Soft smile. "We wouldn't want that, now would we? The last time that happened..." 

Trowa might have meant it as a joke, but as the sunbeam faded it became clear Quatre didn't take it as such. The usually cheerful eyes glazed over with cloudy thoughts, and it slowly dawned on Trowa what flashes of memory might be playing on the canvas behind the glassy eyes. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" 

Quatre shook his head, chasing the images away. "No, that's - that's okay, Trowa. I know you didn't mean it like that. It's just that every time I think about it... Oh, never mind. I don't want to brood on it - not now." 

Trowa merely nodded, at a loss of what to say. In the end, he probably made the best choice. 

"Anyway - what were _you_ doing down on Earth? I thought the circus was touring the colonies this time of year." 

Another nod. "It is. I was just making arrangements for the next visit to Earth, getting the sites we need, arranging for the posters to be printed - the usual mess. The manager usually deals with those things himself, but he got a cold and chose to stay with the circus. I'm sure Cathy is pouring him full of chicken soup by now, making him regret it." He smiled. 

"If you want me to, I could call the company - I'm sure we could get someone to finish those errands for you, and-" 

Trowa shook his head. "No need. I was done by the time I got the message. I was just lingering a bit - sightseeing, in a way." 

"What do you mean, 'in a way'?" 

"I didn't just tour the country or visit museums - I paid my respects to a specific graveyard outside Marseilles." 

Quatre's face turned into a living question mark. Correction, make that a _concerned_ living question mark. A smile from Trowa made it fade. 

"Don't look at me like that - I was visiting the grave of Marshal Noventa. Heero and I had an encounter there with his granddaughter once. Whenever I'm near Marseilles, I stop by that place for a reminder of why I shouldn't act without thinking, and of why I should stand for all my decisions, and attempt to fix the bad ones. Every action has a reaction - and possibly a consequence. His grave makes me remember that." 

"But you weren't the one that killed Marshal Noventa - you shouldn't repent for that." 

"Maybe not. Maybe I'm infringing on Heero's reflection and grieving grounds by going there, but I feel they belong to all of us. Any of us could have made that mistake. It just happened to be Heero that did it." 

Quatre nodded, not sure of what to say. 

"Anyway, that's how I got to the Preventer headquarters so quickly." 

A thought struck Quatre. "Did you come alone?" 

The brief passing twitch of his brow was the only sign of Trowa's minor panic attack, mind racing to divert the issue, and much too soon deciding on "What do you mean?" 

Quatre nearly grinned. "You heard me." 

"I shouldn't be telling you that." 

The grin grew. "You're going to anyhow - in fact, you already have." 

Trowa sighed. "Yeah..." 

"So, did you just run into Heero in Marseilles, or did the two of you plan the visit?" 

The taller one shrugged. "I was just about finished with the circus business when he ran into me. I had a feeling I'd been followed for a few days, but hadn't been able to confirm it - given who my stalker turned out to be, that isn't too strange." 

"I take it Heero is still bothered with his first big mistake, then?" 

Trowa shook his head. "I don't know - Look, I shouldn't be talking to you about this behind his back. I feel like I'm violating his trust, and-" 

"Between us, it has always been 'my mind to your mind', Trowa. For someone who usually doesn't talk all that much, you're fairly easy to read, or get to talk." 

"Only by you." 

Chuckle. "Maybe... I'm sure Catherine has got you pegged pretty good too." 

Nary a smile. "She's my overbearing, slightly manipulative adopted sister. She has to." 

Gentle laughter. "I'm sure she takes her task very seriously." Quatre's face turned somewhat grim. "I take my work seriously too - and right now, I'm trying to deal with mental anguish. Don't dodge the issue." 

"Trying to deal with my problem, or Heero's?" 

"Both, if I can." 

"I'm fine, Quatre. As for Heero, you should talk to _him_, not me." 

"I'll do that. Don't worry, I won't incriminate you for letting me know about your common little ritual." 

Trowa momentarily closed his eyes, half a nod in surrender. 

"So, what about you? Don't tell me you're fine - you clearly have something clouding your mind. Why are you still feeling guilt? What decision in your past haunts you?" 

Kicking a pebble misplaced on the pavement, Trowa showed no signs of wanting to answer. 

"Well?" 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"Why? What's the problem with telling me? During the war, you never had any problems working out whatever troubled you together with me or the others. Why is this any different?" 

Trowa's voice became slightly agitated. "It just _is_, okay?" 

Quatre backed down and stopped walking, a bit alarmed by Trowa's sudden emotional outburst. 

From behind a tall slouching back came a few soft words. "Sorry..." Trowa spun on his heel. "I shouldn't have snapped at you - it's just - you have to let me keep some thoughts private, Quatre." 

The gentle smile returned. "I understand, Trowa. I'll be here whenever you want to talk about it though, whatever it is. And it's not like I'm able to read your mind - I only hear what you say, and see the rest through the way you act." 

"Yeah - I'm just a bit surprised you're able to do that. I mean, Cathy I understand, we're family, we work and live at the same place - she's bound to pick up details about me nobody else sees. _You_, on the other hand - We've barely seen each other since the war ended. How come you know what I'm saying almost before _I_ do?" 

"Spies." 

"Huh?" 

"I hired some detectives to follow you around, and record everything about you." 

Trowa was at a complete loss of what to say, and his face showed as much, taken by surprise as he was - right up until Quatre abandoned all attempts to keep his mask of indifference and stifle the laughter. Trowa frowned, both for being the victim of the joke, and at himself for falling for it. Obviously, he was out of practice, if _Quatre_ could fool him. Perhaps it was time to seek a refresher course in joke detection with Duo... On second thought, that might turn out even more embarrassing. 

Quatre was slowly regaining control of himself, though still grinning widely. "Sorry, Trowa. You should have seen your face - it was priceless." 

Trowa huffed, not amused. Still, indifference won over indignation. "Just to be sure - there were no detectives?" 

Another chuckle. "No detectives, Trowa." 

Trowa nodded, face and temper back in neutral. There was no point in keeping grudges - not that Trowa was predisposed for that in the first place, especially when it came to Quatre. Letting someone nigh-on kill you, yet not become the slightest upset about it, normally says a lot about one's aversion to anger, resentment and sense of vengeance - or common sense. 

Telling the truth and telling the whole truth wasn't the same. Quatre had learned that much from Duo, and albeit he rarely adopted this workaround policy, some situations seemed right for it. The truth might set you free, but there's no telling what _else_ might be unleashed at the same time. Even so, the mere omission had begun gnawing on his conscience, and he was close to confessing when he spotted the sign with a smiling, big-mouthed hippo head not far before them, chasing the thoughts away. The sign was crooked, the left side chain a bit too slack, tilting both the hippo face and the name plate below towards the entrance as if pointing the way. Six steps down from street level, on either side of the door itself, were depositories of various junk. The small windows lodged in the gray brick walls were severely smudged - not that it mattered, as they appeared to have drapes closed on the interior side, and there wouldn't be much of a view from these low windows, regardless. Augusto wasn't lying when he said it didn't look like much - still, one shouldn't judge a book by its cover, or a bar by its facade. With that, Quatre stepped down to the door, gently opening the dark wooden creation, and went inside, Trowa right behind him. 

At first glance, the interior matched the exterior. The artificial lighting from the street didn't penetrate in here, given the state of the windows. A few lamps with red shades dispersed among the compartments along the walls, aided by an out of place chandelier barely attached to the ceiling at the center of the small bar did their best to keep at least some light amidst the thin haze of smoke permeating the room. A few frequenters sat here and there, mostly in gatherings of two or three, keeping low-voiced conversations and enjoying whatever the bar had to offer. Behind the counter on the far side of the door, a middle-aged man with black hair, lush sideburns and a beer belly not easily hidden by his sizable dirty apron was busy pouring yet another large glass for a waiting customer. Presumably, the piece of cloth had once been white. 

In the far right corner, hidden behind a low separator wall, a gruff, distracted voice sounded out, words not possible to make out in the sea of mumbles. Undeterred, Quatre made his way in that direction, suddenly realizing Augusto hadn't given a description of Mick Raleigh, other than a bit of demeanor. The elderly man sitting within the compartment, directly below a lamp with a white shade - or as white as can be, when exposed to the fumes of the room for years - was bent over no less than three thick books the dimension of encyclopaedias, if not atlases. He was writing furiously in the single open book, and it took him a while to notice the young men standing by the divider wall, waiting for but a chance to introduce themselves. Mick looked up, put the pen down, vaguely ominous grin revealing uneven yellowed teeth, and emphasizing the scar streaking down his right cheek. The gray, short yet spiky hair bore the same 'freshly electrocuted' look Doctor S preferred. "Yes, kids? Anything old Mick can help you with?" 

Quatre extended his hand. "I'm Quatre, this is Trowa - Augusto said we should talk to you." 

"Augusto, you say?" With that, Mick opened a fourth book, previously hidden underneath the vast one he had been writing in. He flipped through the pages, skimming the lines with his forefinger, tapped the line he sought twice and closed the small book again, motioning Quatre and Trowa to sit down. At this point, the man behind the bar noticed what was happening. 

"Hey - don't bother pops. He wants to sit alone." 

Mick coughed twice before responding. "Oh, hush. Augusto sent them here, so they can't be bad people. This is still my bar!" 

The bartender sighed. "No, you sold it to me fair and square. Do I have to show you the papers _again_, pops?" 

At this, Mick appeared startled. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Oscar - your _son_, pops." Mick grinned again, nodding. Oscar sighed again. "Look, you two - as you can see, he's not in touch with the real world anymore. Don't bother him, and don't be surprised if he can't remember the last line you gave him." 

The gruff voice boomed again. "Oh, shut up. No harassing the other customers, or I'll throw you out of my bar!" 

Oscar slouched his shoulders, and threw the towel he had been drying off the bar with over his right shoulder before returning to a new customer ready to order. 

Mick snickered, albeit very quiet. The two boys could but stare at him. "Oh, don't worry - that was all play for the gallery. I still know who I am, that Oscar is my son, and that the bar isn't really mine - it's just everything _else_ I have a problem remembering. We just do this every now and then so the regulars of this bar don't feel sad I keep forgetting _their_ names too. It's a commonly known secret in this place, though - for all I know you could be regulars too. Oh, what were your names again?" 

Quatre reintroduced the two of them, upon which Mick brought forth the little book again, making some quick notes. 

"Sorry about that - like I said, it's everybody else I forget. This book is sort of an index for me, so that I can remember people in some way. Bad thing, memory loss. I recall everything as clear as day right up until some three hours later - then it's all gone, unless I record it." He patted the big, open book. 

"You write journals?" 

"Absolutely, kid. It's a habit I've never been able to break. Makes interesting reading, too. With these, I can remember things better than anyone on the colony - well, as long as the things took place at this bar, that is." Mick laughed, albeit muffled. "So, what was it... Augusto, was it? - sent you here for?" 

"He asked us to tell you the shoes you ordered were ready." 

"Really? I ordered shoes?" Mick riffled through the back pages of the smallest book, quickly finding what he was looking for. "It appears I did. Have to remember that..." He made another note in the book. "Okay, tell Augusto I'll be over when I do my errands next week, unless I lose the damn shopping list again. Anything else?" 

"Augusto told us you might help us with something." 

Yellow grin. "I'm sure, I'm sure. What with?" 

"We are looking for someone that passed through this colony nineteen years ago." 

"Nineteen, you say? Well, that must be a challenge." 

Quatre smiled. "It is - we were wondering if you might tell us something from back then. Augusto said this place was the sole gathering place back then, so it's possible the one we're searching for visited here." 

Mick rubbed his chin. "Anything's possible, kid. This place has always been the best place on the colony, that much I'm certain of - not that I leave here much..." He gave an abrupt clap of hands. "Anyway, that's beside the point. You want to take a peak in my journal archives, then. Nineteen years ago... Have a date?" 

Trowa cut in. "The last known record of him traces him to the space dock here July 23rd, 178 AC." 

Mick made a mock shock expression. "He speaks!" 

Quatre couldn't stifle a chuckle fast enough. 

Mick scratched his scar, giving another grim grin. "Sorry, son. Didn't mean to put you down - Now, down to business. Oscar - hey, Oscar!" 

The bartender accepted the payment from the last ordering customer before coming over. "What is it, pops?" 

"These two would like to do some history reading. Think you could get the right book for me from the study?" 

"Alright - which one?" 

Mick took a moment to think before opening his little compressed memory book again. "Volume 26, I think. Parts of 178 AC." 

Oscar nodded. "Watch over the bar, pops. Wouldn't want anyone hogging the taps while I'm out back." With that, he drew aside a set of long green drapes, opening and entering the door hidden behind it. Mick returned to the big, open book, picked up his pen and began writing with the same vigor he had when the two ex-pilots first approached him. He paused for but a second. 

"Oh, sorry about this, boys - I have to write down everything before I forget it. Like I said, the memory doesn't linger much beyond three hours, and I'd rather be safe than sorry." Another quick flash of yellow. 

Quatre and Trowa could do little but wait, their silence more than compensated by the low murmurs throughout the bar, as well as Mick's pen scratching paper. Fortunately, Oscar didn't take long. He returned carrying a book of the same gargantuan dimensions as the three Mick already had on the table. "Here you go, pops. Want me to take the other two spares back to the study?" 

Mick paused his scribbling. "Hm? Oh - yeah, sure." He closed his current journal, putting it aside along with the little black book, and shoving the other two copies over the table. Oscar put the one he had brought before his father, picked up the other two and stepped out the backdoor yet again. With a single strong breath, Mick blew off the thin layer of dust that had gathered on the book, leaving him coughing on the same debris. He opened the book, sifting through the pages quickly, skipping May, June and most of July, hunting for the specific date. "July 23rd, was it?" 

Quatre nodded. 

"Ah, here it is - July 23rd, 178 AC." Mick twisted the big book so Quatre could see. Unfortunately, the messy handwriting was virtually illegible to him. Thinking of ways to say this politely, Mick grinned at his pondering, worried face, before giving a slight snicker. "What's the matter - my writing style giving you trouble?" 

Tentatively, Quatre gave a curt nod. 

"That's alright. I haven't met that many that could. Okay, I'll read aloud for you - is that okay?" 

"Oh, we wouldn't want to give you so much bother for just-" 

"Okay, it's settled. Sit down, kids, and I'll tell you a little fairy tale." Mick flashed his yellowing teeth again. "July 23rd, 178 AC. Hm, I'll just skip until the later bits. This guy you're talking about would be a total stranger when he showed up here, so he's probably not mentioned by name at first." Forefinger vaguely trembling, Mick skimmed line after line, going through page after page in a hurry. "Hm... This seems like a good place to start. '_I tapped Richardson another beer. If he thinks I'll forget taking payment just because he's running a tab here, he's sorely mistaken. Richardson wanted, like every night, to get a poker game going. Never mind he can't play worth chicken-shit. Tonight had a low turnout, so he had to ask some of the random drop-ins. One guy with a pompous ancient-style uniform making him out like some old European aristocrat, another in a red coat with a Shakespeare-like hair cut, and a third man with a beaten, brown hat, gray coat and round glasses. Frankly, it looked like they were all heading for a costume party - including Richardson, who was wearing the same ugly light blue dress his wife puts on him. The man never learns - Eleanor is just doing it to mock him for leaving her alone nearly every evening, but he doesn't get it, no matter how clearly we tell it to him. Richardson chose the corner booth. Suits me fine, I'll have a chance to follow the game more easily this way._' " Mick paused, catching his breath, snapping his fingers. "Barkeep, get me something to drink, would you? My throat is drying up here." 

Oscar filled a pitcher of water, and brought it over, along with a glass. Mick eyed him carefully, frowning. "That's not what I meant, and you know it." 

Oscar's grin went from sideburn to sideburn. "You're on a diet, pops - doctor's orders." 

Mick mumbled something incomprehensible, though the occasional random curse and words 'doctor' and 'quack' could be made out as he poured himself a glass of water, downing it in one gulp and coughing when getting some of it down his windpipe. He burped. "Ah, better. Now, where were we? Oh, did any of those guys sound like the one you were searching for?" 

Quatre shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe - Our man used to be associated with Romefeller, and that group fancies the aristocratic style, as they _are_ mostly aristocrats." 

Mick grumbled something about 'rich' and 'arrogant', serving himself another glass of water. "Very well. I'll skip a bit forward. Looks like this is just a description of how the game played out, a few more orders at the bar, an arrival or two of a regular, departure of others... Ah, here things turn a bit interesting again. I began using nicknames for the strangers somewhere in here - Napoleon, Shakespeare and Sherlock. Wonder where I got those strange names... Anyway - '_Richardson was having the devil's luck tonight. He had picked three totally random people who were just as bad as himself at poker. Napoleon was definitely facing his Waterloo, already having visited Elba twice. Shakespeare was doing okay, but was still hovering between comedy and tragedy. Sherlock was also doing okay, though he kept taking off his glasses to wipe them clean, as if that would boost his luck - which it does. I have already realized his trick, though the other three doesn't seem to get it. I swear, you'd think Richardson would remember the mirror hanging on the wall behind him. Sherlock's glasses probably gives him just the reflection he needs to beat Richardson, at least. Napoleon and Sherlock came in together, so I thought they were in cahoots first - but judging from this game, I'd say they're fierce rivals. Henley, Crawley and Vincour just left, leaving the bar empty other than the four card players. Nothing for me to do than write about their game. I'll let them play out this hand, before reminding them of closing time. Well, what do you know - Richardson just got a decent hand. There goes Sherlock rubbing his glasses again - oh, he saw those cards, judging from how his eyes just became saucers. There he goes, folding. Shakespeare calls, and raises. Napoleon can't follow, he doesn't have - oh, he's searching his pockets for more cash... Someone's going broke tonight. There goes loose change, and the wristwatch. No, the others won't value it enough. Napoleon goes for his neck - apparently he has some kind of fancy necklace. Looks like gold._' " 

Quatre interrupted. "The amulet - it has to be it!" 

Mick sipped some more water. "Amulet? I thought you were looking for a person?" 

"Uhm - we are, but the man we're looking for had an amulet with him - one that looks like gold. That has to be him, I'm sure of it." 

"Ah. Okay, then. Shall I continue?" 

"Yes, please." 

Mick put down his glass, and nodded. " '_Shakespeare gives the go-ahead. Sherlock is going saucer-eyes again, I think he disapproves of gambling with the piece of jewelry. Richardson is nodding, and calls the other two. There goes his savings for the week - I bet Eleanor will either give him hell or heaven tonight, all depending on his luck. Napoleon has a knowing smile, he could have some seriously good cards. Shakespeare just looks angry. Not too shabby a poker face, that. Sherlock downs what's left of his glass, looking none too happy. I bet Richardson is grinning - he's putting down his pairs of queens and sevens. Too bad that ace of diamonds is useless to him, though. I think they're playing aces high tonight. Napoleon's smile just grew, and Shakespeare looks baffled. Napoleon puts down his cards... I'll be, he's got a low straight, three to seven. Richardson looks shattered. I bet I won't see him here for a few weeks now - Eleanor is bound to have a say about this, if not more. Napoleon is reaching for the pot, Shakespeare puts down his cards, tapping them... Looks like Waterloo just occurred - the playwright has four kings and a queen, no less. Heck, that's nearly a play right there. Oh, Sherlock is on a rampage now - he's practically throttling Napoleon. Richardson gulps down what's left of his glass, and slinking to the door. I'll let him go without a goodbye, he's got to have enough on his mind as it is. Shakespeare is gathering his spoils as best he can. The other two look completely devastated. Sherlock is arguing with Shakespeare - he wants the locket back. Shakespeare refuses, says he likes the lion image on it. The military mastermind calms the detective down. I guess there won't be a brawl tonight, after all. Good thing too, I don't think I'd want to separate a bunch of half-drunks. The winner isn't smiling, though - I think that angry face isn't a poker special, it's permanent. Sad thing, really - looking bitter no matter what happens. Ah, well. He gives me a nod as he steps outside. The last two are going over what they have left. Looks like Sherlock still has enough money to keep them going. Good for them. They're still arguing over the amulet. Napoleon flashes that knowing smile again - gives me the creeps, that smile. Sherlock is still grumbling. They both give me a nod, and leaves. I doubt those two will try to catch up with Shakespeare and steal the necklace thing back, but who knows. Isn't my business, anyway. Time to close the shop and tidy up the last mess._' " 

Mick went for another glass to ease his dry throat. Quatre's face had fallen, concern overtaking sunshine. Trowa remained in neutral, though his eye was a bit more glazed - if not moist - than usual. 

"Well, kids - I guess you were after Napoleon?" 

Quatre nodded. 

"Well, let me check the registry at the back of the book - I always keep a record of nicknames and descriptors I make in case they turn into repeat visitors." And so he did, flipping the vast journal volume to the very end, skimming a few pages with names, both real and nickname tags, resting on 'Napoleon'. "No, doesn't look like he returned in the next three months, at least." 

"What about the other two?" 

"Shakespeare and Sherlock? One sec..." Again, Mick's shaky finger went down the lists, but coming up with the same result. "Sorry - looks like none of them returned in the following three months, at least." 

"What about later?" 

Mick rubbed his chin. "Well, I might have noted down names in the external short-time memory." With that, he reached for the small, black book, and flipped rapidly through the pages, taking a few minutes to search for all three nicknames. "No, doesn't look like Napoleon returned. Guess he was off to St. Helena." 

"And the others?" 

"No traces of Sherlock or Shakespeare. Doesn't look like they bothered to visit here again." 

Quatre felt like crying. So close, yet so far - even worse, now they weren't chasing a name and a recognizable figure, but rather some random character, whom for all they knew _could_ have just come from a costume party, making him even harder to track down. A difficult task was turning hopeless. He looked over to Trowa, and saw vague signs of despair even there. 

"Kid-" Mick stopped to flip through the black book. "-Quatre, sorry. You look like someone just shot your dog, or something." 

The blond sighed. "It's not that, it's - we have to find Shakespeare too now, and where would we start searching for someone we don't even know the slightest thing about?" 

"Hm... I thought you were looking for Napoleon only - I'm guessing you want that necklace thing too, then?" 

Quatre nodded. 

"Well, best idea I can give you is to go down to the open market, and ask someone there if they've ever bartered something like that thing - I doubt Shakespeare ever traded it, though - by what I wrote, he seemed to cherish the little trinket." 

Neither of the boys were eager to reply. For a moment, silence fell over the corner booth. Then Mick gulped down the rest of his water, and slammed the glass in the table. 

"Tell you what, kids - get some rest, and give it some thought - I'm sure the two of you will think of something. Has to be other ways of tracing people and gadgets, right? If all else fails, stop by tomorrow, and I'll make Oscar serve you something, on the house." As an afterthought, he added "Something non-alcoholic, of course. I doubt either of you are old enough yet - and don't try to bullshit me on that, I have years of training in spotting minors." 

All Quatre could muster was a strained chuckle, albeit it at least made part of his good mood return. "Thanks, Mr. Raleigh." 

"Don't mention it." 

Trowa stood up, look alone asking Quatre to follow, which he did. 

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Raleigh. Sorry to have bothered you for-" 

"Oh, don't mention it. I like digging through my journals. I can't search through the memories in my head, so I've got a bit of an access disadvantage - but I make up for it in detail." 

Quatre's smile was back. "Don't forget to pick up your shoes." 

"Shoes? What shoes?" 

"The one Augusto made for you? They are ready, remember?" 

"They're ready? Okay, I'll have to make a note of that... Wait, looks like I already have. Better make a new one." 

With another sigh - this time a happy one - Quatre left Mick with his books, gave Oscar a nod, which was returned, before following Trowa out of _The Happy Hippo_. The sudden emerging into the artificial daylight forced him to blink a few times to adjust. 

"So... What do we do now, Trowa?" 

Trowa shrugged. "I guess we go back to the shoe shop, pick up our luggage, and find a place to stay for the night - I think I know one." 

"Oh? A hotel?" 

Trowa gave a thin smile and the weakest of huffs. "No. The circus is in town." 

"The circus is here? I thought-" 

"The circus is still here, preparing to tour the L3 cluster. The trip to Earth is still a few months away. If you don't mind getting a spare bed in one of the trailers, it would be a good a place as any to get some rest." 

"I'm not so sure... Catherine wasn't too happy to see me last time I saw her - and I have bad experiences with young women carrying sharp objects." 

This time, Trowa burst out in a full chuckle. "Don't worry, Quatre. She's a bit overprotective, but she doesn't bear a grudge for your little insanity-streak during the war anymore." 

Quatre sighed. "I hope you're right. Okay, let's do that, then." 

With a nod from Trowa, they walked back to the shoe shop. The lights were slowly dimming down, signaling the imminent eve and consequent nightfall. Augusto was just about to close when they reached the shop, Ted already asleep upstairs. The shoes were done, and Augusto looked very pleased with his work as he handed the pairs to the boys. In each case they were a perfect fit - though given room to shape themselves around the feet from walking them in. Quatre thanked on behalf of both himself and Trowa - as well as paid for them both, albeit Trowa objected, only to be silenced with a quick, soft glare. After inquiring about how their visit to _The Happy Hippo_ went, as well as getting the answer to the same, Augusto immediately tried to dispel the sudden sadness that overcame the shop, with mixed success. In the end, Quatre thanked Augusto for all his help, he returned the thanks on Ted's behalf, along with their luggage, and the two ex-pilots were off to the circus, on Augusto's insistence already walking in the new shoes. By the time they reached the circus, the artificial lights were already at their dimmest level. Most of the trailers were dark too, and there was little noise coming from the animal cages on the far side of the little encampment. The big top was disassembled, canvas, ropes, pillars, seats and framework laying in ordered piles in the center of the camp. 

"Looks like everyone's asleep already. I don't know if any of the trailers are empty - is a spare bed in my trailer okay?" 

"Sure, Trowa - I feel tired enough to sleep on the ground, if I have to." 

Trowa smirked ever so slightly. "Don't worry, you don't have to." He led the way to the trailer closest to the cages, unlocked the door at the end of the trailer and with a single hand gesture invited Quatre inside. They both discarded their new shoes on the other side of the door. 'Spacious' would be the wrong word to describe Trowa's habitat - it was more 'barren' than 'cramped' though, free of any sign of decoration as it was, except for half a clown's mask resting on a bench and a matching suit hanging on a hook from the wall next to the bench. Quatre wanted to comment, but bit his tongue, not wanting to insult his gracious host. Trowa put his duffle bag aside, and walked to the far end of the trailer. The small table and couches there were with trained hands turned into two beds; one on each side of the wagon. Trowa got two sets of bedding out of the closet opposed to the tiny bathroom, though at this point his guest insisted in helping, making both beds as Trowa heated the contents some mysterious only-needs-heating can on a tiny hotplate. Not having eaten since the poor meal provided on the shuttle ride to the colony, the warm food - although difficult to truly make out what could possibly be - was appreciated by both. Miraculously enough nothing was spilt, despite that they were eating while seated on the freshly made beds. 

Quatre fell asleep as soon as outer garments were discarded, and the sheets surrounded him. Trowa didn't fall asleep that quickly, taking in the details of the roof as he was, playing the day's events, along with those of a few days past over and over in his head, eventually tiring of it, and he began dozing off, eyelids unbelievably heavy. He was just about to give in, when a new noise broke through the silence of the night - Quatre's snoring. Though it wasn't much compared to the levels some of the mercenaries he grew up with could produce, it was enough to be an annoyance. Trowa frowned, reached out to give Quatre a gentle nudge. The recipient twisted slightly, though not waking up, and more importantly cut the snoring short. With a sigh, Trowa did his best to return to that tranquil place he had been but minutes earlier, and soon enough sleep claimed him. 

------- 

A gentle tap on the door roused him again many hours later. Without waking his guest, Trowa quickly got dressed and walked to answer, already guessing who the visitor was. Sure enough, it was Catherine, her beaming face matching the bright lights above. Trowa gave a nod in greeting, Catherine hugged him back. With a quick point to Quatre, and an understanding nod by Catherine, the two stepped out of the trailer, Trowa closing the door behind him, and again facing his sister. 

"I noticed the drapes were drawn, so I figured you'd come home. You're a bit early, though." 

"I know. Finished with the tour preparations quicker than I thought they'd take." 

She smiled, looking briefly over his shoulder. "And what's Quatre doing here?" 

"Lady Une requested our help with Preventer business. That's why we are here. We were looking for something, but didn't find it before the lights went out." 

She nodded. "Ah-huh. Well, if you're going away again you should probably warn the manager - you know how he is about your sudden disappearance acts." 

"I haven't done that for months." 

"Says _you_ - there have been times when I've wondered where you were, though I couldn't seem to find you anywhere." 

"Cathy, you're my sister and I love you - but I still need some privacy every now and then. Those moments are rare here." 

She laughed. "Yeah, I know. I'm used to it, I've lived like this all my life. You're still adjusting." 

Trowa gave but the thinnest of smiles. 

"Okay, enough of this - if you want to be helpful, I'm sure the animals would love to see you again. Bruno has been really grumpy in the last few days, and Leopold has become much too docile. I think the manager is considering canceling the lion taming act, unless we can get Leopold to _act_ a bit - and more like a fierce beast than a rug. Maybe you could have a chat with him about it?" 

A soft chuckle. "I can't speak to animals, sis." 

"Maybe not, little brother - but you have a way of getting them straightened out anyway. Admit it." 

Trowa didn't, not with words. Instead, he gently opened the door to get his boots out, closed the door just as carefully and walked over to the cages, first to tend to the bear named Bruno. Catherine smiled, shrugged, and went over to her own trailer to pick up a basket of washed clothes in need of drying. 

Without any alarm clock, people waking him nor other means of disturbing his slumber, Quatre kept on sleeping peacefully - right up until a lion roar awoke him with a start. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, remember where he was, quickly noticing Trowa's bed was empty, as was the trailer. He sat up, yawned behind his hand, stretched a bit, got up and got dressed, intent on seeking out his elusive partner. He had barely gotten out the door before Catherine saw him, pausing in hanging up the laundry on the clothes-line stretched between her trailer and Trowa's. At first taking a step back - in mere precaution - Quatre calmed down, relaxed by the young woman's smile - and the absence of shiny, sharp metal. She waved. 

"Hi, Quatre - see you woke up already." 

"Hello, Ms. Bloom - where's Trowa?" 

She rolled her eyes, grinning. "Quatre, call me Cathy, okay? Or at the very least Catherine - I'm not sure I can handle that formal tone of yours, it really creeps me out." 

Smile. "As you wish - Catherine." 

She laughed. "You never can abandon _all_ levels of protocol, can you? Okay, I'll settle for that." 

He shrugged. "Trowa calls you Cathy - I wouldn't want to impose on inter-family names, it just wouldn't feel right." 

"Well, it _should_ feel right - you're kind of the prodigal son of our family, you know." 

Good mood fading. "Maybe..." 

Apologetic. "Oh, sorry - didn't mean to trigger that overactive sense of guilt of yours, Quatre - it's just that you're Trowa's best friend, but you don't visit often. Trowa says you two talk on the phone often enough, though." 

Quatre nodded. "We try to stay in touch, but it isn't so easy. The circus keeps moving around, and I'm always swamped in meetings." 

"There's an easy solution to everything, Quatre - if you don't like your job, you could always resign." 

He shook his head. "I don't think I could do that. Leaving the company entirely isn't even something I'd want to consider." 

"How about working a little less, then? If you're the boss, you should have learned management through delegation by now." 

A weary smile. "Yeah... Maybe I'll do something like that." 

She grinned. "I highly recommend it, saves you lots of work - here's a direct example: since Trowa was back, I delegated the morning care and feeding of the animals to him. Now I don't have to stress this morning to get everything done." 

"He's with the animals?" 

Catherine laughed. "In all possible ways." 

Quatre gave an odd frown. 

"Yeah, he's over by the animal cages. I heard Leopold greet him a while ago." 

Sunshine returning. "Thanks, Catherine." 

She reached down in her basket again, picking up a pair of colorful baggy pants still dripping with water, and threw them over the clothes-line. "No problem, Quatre." 

Quatre walked briskly over to the encirclement of animal cages, most of them rigged on wagons already, though some of the animals had been given a slight pasture to graze, not yet herded aboard a trailer for transportation. He found Trowa crouching by the lion's cage, his hand stretched in between the metal bars, ruffling the rich reddish-brown mane, evidently soothing the not-so wild beast chewing on some unrecognizable piece of meat. Of course, the lion wasn't purring; though the king of animals might enjoy grooming and caresses, some things are below royalty to do - at least, supposedly. Quatre approached as silently as he could, not wanting to cause Trowa to move rapidly and lose a hand in the process by upsetting the caged beast. In the end, it was Leopold that spotted him first, having the advantage of line-of-sight, something Trowa did not, as his back was turned. The Lion gave a low growl, and Trowa looked over his shoulder to see what caused it. He smiled. 

"Morning, Quatre." 

"Good morning, Trowa." Friendly smile to concern. "Uhm, isn't that dangerous, poking your hand into his cage like that?" 

Vague smirk. "Not really. Leopold here is as docile as a sheep - and that's actually a problem. The manager wants him to act like an enraged brute when in the ring." Trowa shrugged, slipping his fingers through the mane again. "I guess it isn't in his nature. He's been serving life without possibility for parole since birth, so you couldn't really expect him to be a hunter - not that male lions hunt in the first place." 

Quatre didn't reply, unsure of what words to use in response, opting for an acknowledging nod. 

Trowa halted. "Hey, want to pet him?" 

Quatre's jaw dropped ever so slightly. "_Pet_ him? - Trowa, he'd bite my arm off. You're the one that charms beasts, not I." 

Nary a chuckle. "Don't worry, he won't bite. Maybe paw you a little and play with you, but not hurt you, I promise." 

Although still skeptical, Quatre took a step closer. 

"Come on, Quatre - it's nothing to be afraid of. I'm here to control him if I have to. I would never let you get hurt, you know that." 

Quatre nodded, another two steps. 

Trowa's faint smile grew ever so slightly at imminent victory. Leopold shook his head and mane and relaxed, as if expecting what was to come. 

Quatre crouched down next to Trowa, who grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers before stretching Quatre's hand into the cage. Trowa was in no rush, finding great amusement in the blond's anxious face and trembling fingers. As their digits reached the coarse fur the shakes ended, and anxiety gave way to a smile. Trowa let Quatre lead their hands around within the lion's mane, though didn't let go - just in case the lion should disapprove, he told himself. 

"Feeding your friend to the lions, Trowa?" 

They were both a bit startled by the new appearance, and turned in the direction of the voice, yet left their right hands within the fur. The manager had come within a few feet of them, too preoccupied to notice his approach as they had been. Quatre began moving his hand again, enjoying petting royalty. 

"No, sir. I was just giving him and Leopold an introduction." 

The man in the red coat sighed. "Yes... A shame, really. That lion better learn how to at least _pretend_ to be a rowdy, dangerous creature, or it will have no room in the circus other than as a curiosity in the petting zoo." He rubbed his chin, a smile growing on his face. "Now, that might actually be a good idea, if he remains this relaxed. Would have to get the paperwork for it, though - and that would take forever." 

Leopold leaned into the boys' joined hands, enjoying the gentle rubs and tickles Quatre's fingers provided. Quatre laughed. The manager sighed again, picked out a handkerchief from a pocket, and emptied his runny nose in the cloth, before carefully putting the moist fabric back where it came from. 

"Catherine told me you were home already - did you get all the arrangements done?" 

Trowa nodded. "Everything is fine - The papers are in my trailer." 

"Good, good. Glad to hear you were able to do this for me, Trowa. If I hadn't had this bloody cold, I would have gone myself, don't doubt that for a second - so don't get any bright ideas about suggesting my early retirement." His face bore no signs whatsoever of it being a joke. 

For that reason, Trowa answered with an equally unemotive nod. 

Quatre momentarily froze as his fingers touched something cold within the warm mane of Leopold. At first retreating his fingers, he returned to try to determine what it was, though the best guess the tactile sensations could give him, would be a string of metal. "Trowa? What's this?" He twisted his hand, reversing their roles and guiding Trowa's fingers to the metal chain. 

Trowa frowned slightly, letting his digits surround and follow the metal for a while before turning to the manager. "Sir, since when did Leopold get a collar?" 

The manager presented a sneeze to his handkerchief. "Huh - Collar?" 

"This," Trowa stated, gently pulling a portion of the thin string out from the mane and into visibility. 

"Oh, that. No, that's... Oh, let me show you." The manager poked both arms within the cage, not the slightest worried that Leopold might react, much less attack. In a brief moment of remembering his own past uncertainty, Quatre gave Trowa an annoyed glare. The recipient smirked in return, mouthing the words 'told you'. 

Leopold shifted his neck as the manager reached into his mane to unfasten the metal chain, indifferent to be rid of it, but submitting to the hands that fed him. The man withdrew his hands, chain in his grip. He offered it to Trowa, whom accepted it, albeit his eyes as well as Quatre's were instead focused on the little golden triangular shape dangling from the lowest point of the chain. 

"It's a good-luck charm of mine. Many years ago when I was down on my luck, that was what inspired me to keep going. I was hoping it would somehow affect this lion in the same way it once affected me." 

Quatre's jaw was drooping severely. Trowa's eyes grew wider than anyone would have thought possible. The former was the first to regain enough wits to speak. "T - Trowa... This is it, isn't it?" He reached out to touch the amulet, bringing the image of the lion's head roaring depicted on it in clear view, golden background matching the vaguely darker elevation of the lion's mane. 

Trowa was at last able to give a nod. "I think it is." 

The manager was a bit disgruntled with the boys' rapture over the little trinket. "What are you two talking about?" 

"Sir, just how did you get this?" 

Faint grunt. "I fail to see how that is relevant." 

"Please." 

A sigh and a shrug. "Very well... It was many years ago - not too long after the Alliance had swept down on the colonies and disrupted everything. I was working for a circus back then, too. The traveling restrictions the Alliance imposed made it impossible to bring the circus anywhere without more expense than it was worth. In the end, the circus went bankrupt. Unemployed and without any idea of what to do, I went to the nearest bar to drown my problems. Didn't really have enough money to get drunk on, so when a man in a really ridiculous blue-shaded suit asked me to join a game of poker, I agreed. I was never any good at cards, but since I didn't have much to lose anyway, I figured I might as well gamble as drink away my last few pennies. As fate would have it, I ended up winning the final game - that little charm was part of the spoils. The minute I won and held it in my hands, it felt as if the lion spoke to me - don't laugh. I didn't hear voices, not from the charm. What I heard was all the dreams the circus I had just left had created, and all it had broken. It fuelled my determination not to let my dreams be broken, not by the circus nor by a military force or government. I took the profits, went to Earth and established my own little circus. The travel restrictions were easier planet-side, and a living could be made of it. That charm has remained with me ever since, to remind me not to give up, but stand up and fight like a lion for all that I want and all that I believe in." He paused, looking at Leopold, who was rolling lazily over to his side, stretching his front paws a bit. "It obviously doesn't work on animals." 

Trowa raised the chain in one hand, letting the amulet rest in the other, before dropping the chain over it, securing all of it in his closed fist. "Sir, could we-" 

"Catherine mentioned you needed more time off for Preventer affairs." 

A nod. 

"Very well, I guess we can manage a few more weeks without you. We'll probably have relocated, but you know how to find us - and stay safe. I wouldn't want to lose one of the few people with the guts to stand in front of Catherine's knife throwing board." 

Again, a nod. "Sir, can we keep this?" 

Surprise. "The charm?" 

Another vertical head-shake. 

Ponderance. "What for?" 

And so, the two tried to do their best to explain, though leaving out as much as possible. Secrecy was part of the game, and they only needed to tell the manager as much as was necessary to part him from the token. In the end, letting him know the Preventers were searching for items similar to the charm - for reasons they didn't disclose - and that Lady Une considered it most important to check all items falling within the description, turned out to be enough. The manager trusted Trowa's word, and upon getting the assurance the charm would be returned once the examination was complete, he conceded. Trowa hastily finished tending to the rest of the animals, aided by - or, perhaps more correctly, somewhat hindered by the inexperienced would-be caretaker Quatre. The two then returned to the trailer to pick up their belongings and prepared to leave. Catherine caught them both as they left the trailer, giving either a solid hug. 

"Take care, Trowa." She looked over to Quatre. "Keep him out of trouble, okay?" 

Smile. "I'll try, Catherine." 

She rolled her eyes at the repetitive formality, giving a slight huff making her hair flutter briefly. 

Trowa handed her a handful of papers. "These are the contracts from Earth. Could you give them to the manager?" 

She accepted the documents. "Don't stay away too long, okay?" 

He sighed, nodding. 

Quatre put on his backpack. "Goodbye, Catherine - and don't worry. Trowa will be back before you know it. There's nothing that could keep him away from the circus, and you know it." 

She grinned. "Oh, I don't know about that..." 

Trowa gave her a brief, hard glare as she walked away, a subdued snicker going with her. The two ex-pilots began walking away from the encampment. 

"Trowa, we should probably call Lady Une and let her know we found the Leo piece." 

Trowa nodded in agreement. "I think there's a public vidphone down the street to the right somewhere." 

"Okay." 

And with that, they were off to the phone booth. 

------- 

The construct of glass, steel and plastic was cramped, though it fit them both. Trowa opted to stay in the background - after all, he could see the screen over Quatre's shoulder - something which would be difficult the other way around. Quatre quickly dialed in the number Lady Une had given them, and soon enough, the Lady answered, her sad eyes behind the glasses a stark contrast to Quatre's open smile. 

"Hello, Lady Une - we found the Leo piece!" 

She sighed, nodded. "I am pleased to hear that, Mr. Winner - however, we have a few problems." 

"What kind of problems?" 

"Ms. Po called in not long ago. Mr. Chang is gone." 

"Gone?" A quick, sharp inhale. "You don't mean-" 

"No - no, not dead - I hope... Ms. Po thinks he has been kidnapped, and she is currently trying to track him down." She paused for a moment. "I'm just a bit concerned he has gotten some idea of operating on his own again - given his track record-" 

"Wufei wouldn't betray us, not like this, not now." 

The Lady gave a tired smirk. "Your faith in people is commendable, Mr. Winner - I do hope it is justified, but as I cannot afford the luxury of being wrong on this, I have to consider his disappearance with great concern. Mr. Chang is not someone easily overpowered, and he was only away from Ms. Po for a few minutes, at most." 

Quatre frowned. "I don't like thinking of a friend as a traitor. I refuse to." 

"As is your prerogative - but not mine." She shifted her eyes to Trowa. "Mr. Barton, I have needs for your services in recovering another of the amulets. Please make your way to the main L1 spaceport, I will meet you there." 

Trowa nodded, never one to question orders. 

"Mr. Winner, I have other orders for you - and I wish for you to relay some orders to Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Yuy as well." 

Soon after, all instructions and cautions given, the conversation ended. Trowa picked up his duffle bag and bid Quatre farewell, hurrying to catch the next shuttle to L1. Quatre remained in the phone booth for a few minutes, trying to think of what to say, how to say the things he had just been told to the last two ex-pilots. He bit his lip, dialed in the beeper number Lady Une had given him, and waited for the return call. 

------- 

-end Leo-   
-TBC?- 

AN: If you're still reading, please review - and be honest. Praise flatters and encourages. Critique inspires and improves. Flames fuel determination and hardens sensibilities. In short - the worst thing you can do, is say nothing. 

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Aries

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
Aries   


AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue.   
  
My sincere apologies to the precious few who still bother to read this 'fic for the lateness of this chapter. Now, I _could_ give you a bunch of reasons why this is so - some of which are even valid - but that's beside the point now, right? After all, the chapter _is_ here, now... :-)   
  
St*r, Tiger Shinigami, Windrage Shinigami, Link Worshiper - thank you ever so much for reviewing. Nice to know someone out there is reading it - or at least skimming through it. I'm sure I'll disappoint you all yet. :-) 

* * *

Against all caution, the room was but dimly lit, the glare of the computer screen contributing nearly as much light as the two pairs of glowing tubes in the ceiling. Evidently, the janitor had seen fit to implement the budget cutbacks on the quality of the lights throughout the entire building composing Preventer Headquarters. The two users of the computer, however, barely noticed - they were far more concerned with the screen. Well, at least Sally was. Seated before the computer, her fingers flew rapidly across the keyboard, setting down search parameters. Behind her, Wufei was pacing restlessly, sometimes staring over her shoulder at the screen, other times stretching or testing his reflexes with short exercises, but never halting. Both had changed out of their dusty clothing used during the Outback adventure, Wufei back in his standard white and blue attire, Sally in another variation of pieces from her leftover Alliance wardrobe. At last satisfied with the series of commands, she initiated the search, leaving the computer to dig for their treasure. She rolled her chair back a little, at the same time bumping into Wufei, causing him to lose his balance, though quick reactions kept him from falling. Sally's smile to smirk made it hard to determine if the push was intentional or not. Wufei muttered a few words to himself, which was probably for the better - undoubtedly, they would be unsuitable for the general public. 

"How much longer until the search is complete?" 

"Patience, Wufei - it all depends. We have to make a cross-search of all Preventer records on file to seek out the test pilot's records. We don't know much beyond his name, and since his employment spans across both Alliance, OZ and Romefeller records we're better off being thorough." 

Wufei snorted, giving his nostrils a brief flare. "Maybe - I still hate being trapped here in the archives." He sneezed. "Don't they ever dust this place? It's badly in need of some oxygen, too." 

She smiled. "And risk fire? There's a lot of dry paper down here, Wufei." 

Another snort. 

The computer gave off a shrill beep, letting them know it had found something. 

"Is it done?" 

Sally shook her head. "No, but it at least did find _one_ record." 

"Good." 

Minutes went by in silence, Wufei returning to his exercises, Sally resting her chin in one hand, using the free fingers to tap in rapid rhythm on the computer desk, much to Wufei's irritation - though he refrained from mentioning it, and instead tried to block it out, and at the same time missing three further beeps. Finally, the ancient archival computer sounded a low, prolonged hum, signaling the end of the search. Sally sat up straight, and rolled her chair into position before the screen. 

"The first record is from Romefeller - the test pilot's original work contract. One William Walker, hired September 19th, 173 AC. Job description classified, job location classified, salary classified... Doesn't look like this will get us anywhere." 

"Okay, next file." 

A few keyboard commands later, the first black-on-blue form vanished, replaced by a small color photograph with a short subtext. The picture contained a man in his early thirties, the woman he embraced looking roughly the same age, brown locks and stretched arms of a young child visible at the very bottom edge of the picture. "Looks like we got a family photo. '_William, Victoria and John Walker, Haroldsford Air Show, 178 AC._' " 

"Hm - well, this won't help us much either. We need an address." 

Sally shrugged. "If it isn't on file here, we'll just go to search the ESUN National Archives - they're bound to have addresses stored." 

"I wouldn't count on it - if they hid his work contracts this well, why wouldn't they give him and his family a classified address too? Wouldn't be difficult for them." 

"Maybe not." She brought up the next document, a very white screen replacing the color picture, but a few lines in black displayed at the top. Sally moved closer to read the fine print, only to lean back dejectedly. "Well, this isn't good. 'Alliance personnel file #159-A44: Walker, William; date of birth Mar. 29th 142 AC, hired as [classified] Sept. 19th 173 AC, transferred to mechanic duty Feb. 12th 175 AC, transferred to test pilot duty Aug. 5th 178 AC, discharged from service Oct. 21st 179 AC, _deceased_ Jan. 17th 180.' " 

Wufei threw his arms into the air in pure frustration. "Oh, great. We're chasing a _dead_ guy." 

She smirked. "Well, at least he won't be running away from us." 

"What if he took the token to his grave? Do _you_ want to order his remains exhumed?" 

"Of course not." She tapped away at the keys again, showing the final hit. "Wufei, this might be what we're looking for - it's a moving notice handed to the accounting office, dated May 7th 174 AC. Looks like Mr. Walker brought his family closer to his place of work - It's an address somewhere in California." 

"So, we're going to track down his family?" 

Sally nodded. "That's our best option right now." 

"For all we know, they could be dead too - the other record didn't state cause of death. He and his family might have been in a car crash." 

"Possibly. We can stop by the National Archives on the way there, just to confirm Victoria Walker's address. It shouldn't be classified, as her late husband's ties with the mobile suit development program were severed even before his death." 

With Wufei's consent, they were on their way. 

------- 

The ESUN National Archives were, as most bureaucratic systems, not easily navigated. Having two Preventer badges opened doors rather easily though, so within just two hours of entering the building, they had gotten the confirmation they needed. Victoria Walker was still living on a west coast address; Villand Drive 17B, Boron, California. After consulting a map, spending quite some time locating the place, they were on their way. 

From the Los Angeles aerodrome, it would take the pair hours to find - in increasing order of difficulty - the right road out of town, the intersection where they were to go right, the town of Boron, Villand Drive, and the estate 17B. As luck would have it, after negotiating the first four obstacles, Villand Drive was anything but cooperative in providing a clear plaque with '17' on it, much less '17B'. Only on the fourth drive-through of the street did Wufei spot a dirt road sneaking around the garage of 16A, squeezed in between the building making up 16A and B, and 20A and B. Driving their rented beige sedan across the dirt road, they soon found 17A and B on the back of the building holding both them and both 16's. 17A looked completely abandoned; the windows were dusty and drape-less, the sparse lawn was growing wild, the driveway was full of potholes and there was a sizable hole in the rotten boards of the garage door. 

17B was in better shape, but not by much. Wufei pulled over, stopping by the off-white picket fence framing the reasonably trimmed grass of 17B. The second floor seemed abandoned, sporting the same signs of desolation as its neighbor apartment. A few sparse flowers grew in the two terrace pots nearly threatening to fall off the wooden porch railing, contesting with the bench dangling from questionable chains from the small roof outcropping, along with a decorative contraption of small, odd tubes and shapes playing their metallic tunes as the wind grabbed them. 

"After you." he offered Sally. 

The change from the air-conditioned cool climate of the car to the air outside was abrupt, and the gentle, warm wind making the leaves of the potted plants flutter did nothing to improve things. Wufei could feel his throat dry up already, and he instinctively unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white coat. 

Sally took a few deep breaths to adjust. "Okay, time to see if someone's home." 

The steps up to the porch objected to being stepped on quite loud, and as there was no real doorbell by the outer netting door, perhaps the loose and half-rotten boards were meant to serve that purpose - in any case, they apparently did. Not before had they taken the three steps up to the porch did a woman with black hair tied in a bun, off-white plain dress, blue massage slippers and a weary, saddened face fractured with more wrinkles than should be there appear in the doorway. 

Sally brought out her Preventer badge, showing it to the woman. "Victoria Walker?" 

The woman nodded. 

"My name is Sally Po, this is Wufei Chang. We're with the Preventers, and would like to ask you a few questions about your late husband. May we come in?" 

Victoria moved her right hand towards her heart, hand lingering briefly before proceeding to her left shoulder, adjusting the dress. She nodded again, and opened the netting door for them. 

"Thank you." 

The interior of the house was in a state of slight disarray similar to the outside. The small living room Victoria led them to after Sally and Wufei left their shoes by the door, was cramped with antique furniture - the couch alone had to be a good two centuries old. An even older grandfather clock gave loud tocks - but remarkably few ticks - over in the corner by the far door. Victoria motioned them to sit. "May I get you something to drink?" 

Sally stretched the pants legs of her uniform as she sat down. "No, thank you. We're fine." Wufei followed her lead. 

Victoria made a strained smile, nodding. She hovered for a bit, then sat down in a wicker chair, dulled white paint work matching the fabric of the couch and her dress. 

"Mrs. Walker - we're looking for an item last known to be in your late husband's possession. I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this, but we have few other options in order to find it." 

Victoria didn't speak, again giving her curt, careful nod as her reply. 

Wufei picked out a picture from his coat's inner pocket, placing it on the empty glass table, sliding it across. "This is what we are looking for. It's a small piece of jewelry. It's painted in gold, but has no real material value." 

The lady in white studied the picture, again shaking her head in affirmative quickly a few times. "Yes, I remember this. William was very fond of this one. He never told me where he got it, but he always considered it his good-luck charm." She smiled, chuckled. "That's William for you - if he had something on at a time of good fortune, it just _had_ to be some sort of magic amulet. First time he showed it to me was after he got a job as a test pilot again. He was so happy back then, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't want him to go back to that job. He'd been working as a mechanic for a while, safe and sound on the ground, just where I wanted him to be. Sadly, he was the kind of stubborn man that always have their heads way up in the clouds." She chuckled again, more strained, reached for a paper napkin at one of the small side tables and wiped away a lonely tear. "William wore that thing ever since. Didn't even lose faith in it as a luck-bringer when he got cancer." More tears, soft sobbing. 

Wufei and Sally shared a quick look. Sally retrieved the picture. "We're sorry, Mrs. Walker - we didn't mean to upset-" 

Victoria reached out for two more napkins, discharging her nose in one, wiping away the last tears in the other, crumbling all three up and tossing them in the waste basket by the grandfather clock, making the slam dunk by bouncing off the antique time piece. "No - No, that's okay. I always get a bit shaky when I think of William. I still miss him, even after seventeen years. It reminds me of how lonely I really am, clinging to his memory." She sighed, weary smile returning. "Well, you're not here to listen to me talk about William - let's see, the good-luck charm... William kept it and a few other luck-bringers with him until the very end. He fought, but couldn't fight without his little superstitions. I preferred prayer, but he didn't agree. During one of our more difficult talks in the last year, I told him I'd never let him be buried with all of those charms. He laughed, saying that if he was _dead_, luck didn't matter anymore. I hated it when he joked about dying - he only did it to cheer me up, of course. William never could stand me being sad. Said he loved to see me smile." She sighed again, reaching out for a framed photograph set up on one of the small side table, letting her fingers trail the frame while studying the young man on the picture. She wiped away another tear, refocusing on the two Preventers. "He blurred in and out of consciousness at the end, and in one of the last moments he handed his favorite charm - the one the two of you are searching for - to our son, John. John wasn't even five at the time, but I think he knew what was happening anyway - Always so advanced for his age, bless him." 

As Victoria stretched for yet another paper napkin, Wufei leaned in over the table, elbows on his knees, chin on knitted fingers. "Is your son still in possession of the amulet? We really need to-" 

Her face grew stern in an instant. "My son is dead, agent Chang. As much as I fought against it, he chose to enlist, wanting to be a big-shot mobile suit pilot, just like his father - and he managed that, following his father's steps, becoming a pilot - and dying for something futile." 

Wufei retreated, Sally taking over. "We apologize, Mrs. Walker. We didn't know that." 

She sighed, again a quick series of curt nods. "Yes, yes, I see that. I still remember when the Alliance officer came to my door two years ago, giving me the fancy speech of how John had given his life in the struggle for peace, and all of that. They refused to give me any details on his death back then. I found out what had happened a year later. My son had led an assault against one of the Gundams. His entire unit was wiped out, him being the last one. They all died so that one of the Alliance commanders could retreat - from a position where John had warned him not to be before the battle commenced." Her face grew stern again, and more bitter. "So many young men and women died because one old bastard brass-bearer thought it'd be nice to go touring the middle of a battlefield. When I learned of this, I managed to get a meeting with the man they saved, asking if his life was worth theirs - after I had given him a solid slap across his face. He looked so sad, so regretful. Sent me a letter a bit later, full of apology and regret. I replied, saying that couldn't bring my son or his comrades back. As far as I know, this man now has a position within the ESUN government, overseeing grief work and support for all the shattered families out there." She sighed, a wicked grin flashing across her face. "Got another letter from him just last week, telling me all about it - sure, he couldn't bring my son back, but he wanted to do all he could for those left behind. His form of penance, I guess. I'm considering writing him back again, saying I forgive him - it's not his fault he was a fool that shouldn't be commanding in the first place." 

Wufei gave a brief snort. "A leader should be on the front of battles, not hiding behind his soldiers." 

Victoria's eyes hardened, staring at him. "If you're about to say dying in battle for something you believe in is some glorious thing, I might give you the same service I did the old commander. John's death was completely futile. His killer didn't leave me as much as a proper grave to visit - there were no identifiable remains from the near-disintegrated wreckage of his mobile suit. The military officer brought me an urn, but it probably doesn't contain any of his ashes, given the account I got last year." 

An eerie silence fell upon the cramped living room, Victoria calming down, returning to her initial soft, sad state. Sally hesitated, but at last ventured a question. "Mrs. Walker - where did this battle take place?" 

"Corsica - the Alliance had a military base there. My son wasn't stationed there at the time of the battle, but had trained there as a mechanic a few years earlier. Whenever he wrote, he described it as a beautiful place. It's not much of a comfort, but at least he died at a place he liked, doing what he dreamed of." She paused, all too clearly reading the questions the agents were reluctant to ask written across their faces. "John kept the amulet with him all through his childhood. He had it around his neck in a thin chain when he left for recruit training at the Lake Victoria base. That was the last time I saw it. I suspect he wore it right up until the day he died." Again, she halted, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry - but that's all I know about it. I would tell you to seek out any friends John might have had at Lake Victoria or Corsica, but I fear they too might have become casualties in all the pointless fighting. The few he ever mentioned to me, also died in the battle at Corsica - I found that out when trying to uncover the truth of that battle." 

Again, the unbearable silence returned, disturbed only by the soft breeze sounding through the gap of one of the living room windows, and the metallic tinkles of the porch ornament. Sally reached across the table, placing a hand across Victoria's folded ones. "Mrs. Walker, if there's anything we can do for you to-" 

She waved it off, her exasperated hands going in a circle before again resting on her knees. "Don't bother, Agent Po. I've gotten enough sympathies and apologies from government officials - it doesn't help anymore. It only makes me think more about the past - and I've done enough of that for the last seventeen years. I want to move forward, but few wants to talk to me about _that_." She sighed. "I guess I'll write the old commander another letter. Maybe I'll be able to put the sorrow and anger behind me... I wish you luck on your search, though." 

Victoria stood up, in no unclear way stating the interview was at an end, and she wanted her solitude back. The agents also got up, both shaking Victoria's hand, thanking her for her time, though neither gave another apology for the past, both knowing she wouldn't like it. The half-rotten porch step squeaked loudly as they passed it to the car, and though neither looked back, the click of the door lock was unmistakable. 

Leaving behind Villand Drive and in turn Boron, the trip back to the aerodrome was done in silence, neither eager to talk. Sally had taken the wheel for the voyage home, but at the straight, open road she found her eyes drawn to the left every so often, surveying the vast fields of crops blooming in what had once been deserts, and before that- 

"Wufei, do you know what this place used to be?" 

"Huh?" 

"This place - out left. Do you know what used to be here?" 

He shrugged. "How should I know? I didn't grow up here, and the lessons I got on Earth history and geography didn't go into such trivial details. If you're talking about the irrigation programs of the late 120s-" 

Sally chuckled. "No, that's not what I was thinking of. I was thinking of military history." 

"Military?" 

"Yes - before the limited nuclear exchange in 53 AC, there was a major airbase out there - Edwards Air Force Base." 

"Edwards?" 

She nodded. "They built the New Edwards base closer to San Francisco rather than here. The official reason was that it was cheaper. Other _un_official reasons would go along the lines how most soldiers don't like 'haunted names' - names associated with great fatalities in combat, plus worries the radioactivity hadn't dissipated enough. I'm inclined to believe a bit in the first of those. It's strange - place names are re-used all the time, despite the tragic history attached to some of them. Sometimes, you alter them a bit, putting a 'New' in front of the original name, like 'New Edwards'. However, you'll rarely see people give a ship the name of a ship that's gone down - especially warships. Aren't all that many _Titanic_s, _Mary Celeste_s, _Santa Maria_s or _The World_s out there, either. Infamy or superstition, I don't know. We'll probably never see another _Libra_ or _Peacemillion_." 

He shrugged, snorted. In a far corner of his mind, the words 'haunted names' struck a cord - but Wufei was determined to keep that to himself. The name he gave the Shenlong and Altron was a far too personal matter. "What's this got to do with anything, anyway?" 

Her time to shrug. "Just trying to make conversation. It's a long drive, and we don't have directions to argue about now." 

Wufei frowned, glaring into the dashboard. "That doesn't mean the topic is worthwhile discussing. We'd be better off planning our next move." 

Sally gave a faint smile. "All right - what do you think?" 

"We basically have two choices. We can go to Corsica Base, and try to trace John Walker's moves backwards in time, or we can go to Lake Victoria Base, and follow the moves forward in time. From what the widow told us, we should probably head for Corsica. If he still had the locket then, someone there might remember. If he did wear it at the time of the battle, we can probably consider the token lost. It's a long-shot, but..." 

She nodded again. "I agree with that. Corsica it is." 

Silence took over the car again, hums from the tires, engine and air-conditioning all that complemented it. They came upon the first major turn on their return trip, heading left in the intersection. More silence. 

"Wufei, Noin told me she first met you at Lake Victoria." 

"So?" 

"She told me what happened there..." 

He shrugged. "My question remains the same." 

"You have no problems with what you did at Lake Victoria? If Corsica is literally a dead end, we might have to return there, and I'd like to have advance warning if-" 

Wufei glared at her. "Why should I have a problem? I killed a few soldiers, blew up a few military buildings, mobile suits and planes." 

Sally pulled over, slowing the car to a halt on the road's shoulder before turning to glare back at Wufei. "You killed _sleeping recruits_, Wufei. Doesn't that bother you at all?" 

"They were _soldiers_ - and by their own choosing. If they joined the Alliance forces without considering it could mean their death as well as a chance to pilot mobile suits and get a fancy uniform, that's their grave mistake. A soldier must be willing to fight, and willing to die. Those that are too weak to deal with that, shouldn't become soldiers in the first place. Only those with the strength - mental and physical - to do what they must to win should take up arms." 

She faced front again, crossed her arms and briefly closed her eyes. "They had no way of retaliating, Wufei." 

Somewhat irritated, Wufei continued his defense. "So blame their poor security for letting me slip inside unnoticed in the first place. Noin could have killed me as I escaped, but she didn't. In return, I didn't kill _her_." 

A chuckle. "She told me about the 'bleeding hearts or women'." 

He smirked. "I'm still not sure which she is." 

Sally offered half a smile, but punched Wufei none too gently in the shoulder nevertheless. 

"What was _that_ for?" 

"Don't insult absent friends, Wufei. Especially not mine." 

The smirk returned. "Who said I was insulting? I was merely-" 

He dodged the next punch - though this was a much weaker one. "Next time you see Noin, offer her a duel. I think she could teach even you a thing or two, both about mobile suit and hand-to-hand combat." 

"Not much use in learning about mobile suit battles anymore, Sally." 

She sighed. "I'm not so sure. As long as there's people willing to set up the kind of operations we discontinued in Australia..." 

Wufei's eyes flared with determination as he looked down the road ahead. "We'll win. The minds and hearts of the people are on our side. In time, we'll win." 

Another sigh. "It's a hollow victory, though. After we've cleared away all would-be aggressors and disbanded ourselves as the last paramilitary group left, how are people going to know wars are best avoided? All through Earth's history, there has been nothing like a major war to keep things silent for decades." 

Wufei closed his eyes for a second, and smirked. "War, peace and revolution..." 

"What?" 

"Nothing - just one of Mariemeia's mottos. History repeats itself after those three beats, as an 'endless waltz', she said." 

Sally smiled. "The band has stopped playing, Wufei. We're coaxing the dancers to sit down now." 

He chuckled. "Now all we have to do, is make them all sit together and play Scrabble for cheap points instead." 

Her time to laugh a little. 

"The people really _want_ peace now, Sally. That's why I'm sure they'll have it, too. Each person can contribute to peace; it's all a matter of avoiding and preventing fights. Peace shouldn't just be handed to you by soldiers on a distant battlefield. That's why I joined Mariemeia's forces - I wanted to see if the general public cared enough about peace to risk _their_ lives to keep it. The only way for me to find that out, was to become part of the threat. My actions couldn't break the cycle of history. That was - and continues to be - the job of the people." 

She gave a curt nod. "You know, I studied a great deal of military history as a complementary subject to my medical training. I'm a bit concerned how history will judge us." 

"You don't think we're doing the right thing, trying to keep the world at peace?" 

"It's not that - I believe we're doing the right thing, Wufei. What I'm wondering is if the historians of a hundred years into the future will think. Maybe they'll conclude that by breaking the endless cycle of wars, we altered a part of humanity, for better or worse." 

"That's the problem of the future. Our problem is to deal with the present." 

Sally looked at him, and nodded in agreement. She turned the ignition and set the car back in motion. For the rest of their drive and later flight, they took on far lighter topics of conversation, such as battlefield tactics, shrapnel injuries, motorcycle maintenance and spirituality - all of which danced fairly close and occasionally inside the greater topic of warfare. 

------- 

For one of the early battlefields, Corsica Base was still relatively intact. Most of the hangars were still standing, but like the rest of the base; towers, airstrips, barracks and remaining buildings alike, they had been converted to civilian use. Only one hangar had been reserved for storing leftover military material, awaiting disposal or conversion to use in non-military projects. Once more, Wufei found himself in a dusty storage facility, digging through old records. The file cabinets had been moved from the main administration building to the hangar at the end of the war, and bore evidence of having been left utterly alone in the sixteen months since the move. The guard on duty hadn't been of much help - she had been transferred to Corsica only after the hangar had been converted into a warehouse, and knew nothing of what had happened to any of the Alliance or Oz personnel once stationed here. She had been able to lead them to these file cabinets, though. Wufei caught another whirl of dust as Sally unlocked another compartment, rifling through paper folders - all labeled - but most with only serial numbers, and thus very tricky to identify the contents of. 

"Sally, this is pointless - why are we digging through this ancient paperwork? We should be searching out the soldiers that were stationed here right before the battle. These files can't possibly contain anything worthwhile, when we don't know what to look for in the first place!" 

She smirked at him, and slammed the compartment shut, sending more dust into the air. "You're right, we should be searching for the old personnel, but Mrs. Walker said her son had been stationed here before the war. I'd like to take a look at those records too." She shrugged. "If nothing else, perhaps we'll find out if he still had the token after finishing his training at Lake Victoria." 

Wufei frowned. "Don't tell me you seriously think the Alliance kept records of the personal effects of the mechanics?" 

She chuckled, and opened another cabinet. "Probably not - but you never know. Maybe it was registered as stolen at some point, or put in a safe deposit box within the armory because he considered it too valuable to carry with him, or maybe it is mentioned as an identifier in a disciplinary report. The point is, we won't know if some clue is hidden here unless we search for it." 

A snort. 

Sally smiled. "Look, it won't take that long - there's only five cabinets here." 

He leaned against the cabinet at the end. "Well, what about the records - those numbers have no meaning unless you know the key." 

A smirk. "What makes you think I don't recognize the codes, Wufei?" 

"Codes?" 

"Yeah - at least some of these numerical combinations are old Alliance codes." She picked up a folder. "This one holds transfer papers. The number after the contents identifier is probably whatever registry number this person had here." 

Wufei pushed away from the cabinet, and walked up next to Sally. "So, do you know Walker's registry number?" 

"No, but these files have been put in a very strict order. I'm trying to find any that could be of interest, like those I mentioned earlier." She closed the compartment, and went for the one below it, crouching beside the metal drawer. Her hands sifted through another handful of manila folders, before picking one out. "Okay, this one's a disciplinary record." She opened it and skimmed the content before putting it back, and fishing out the next, repeating the procedure. "Wufei, could you start at the top drawer of the next cabinet? I think all the disciplinary records are gathered together, so that compartment should have more." 

With a nod, Wufei did as he was told, and began reading about all the fights and assorted troubles mechanics, guards and pilots had gotten themselves into - and gotten caught for. Though few names were mentioned in the files, he remembered a picture of a young man he'd seen at the Walker residence. He wasn't sure if it was of William or John, but he figured it didn't matter much. Father and son, how different could they really look? After reading another dead-end file, he shook his head. "Sally, this is pointless. These records doesn't give clues to who they're about." 

She sighed. "For starters, look for the mechanics. Walker wasn't stationed here as a pilot before his death. After that, you eliminate the senior mechanics, he was an apprentice here. They wouldn't give a youngster like him that much responsibility." 

With a muffled growl, Wufei continued the search. Four manila folders later, he found something of interest, and smirked. "Sally, I think I have something here." 

She stood up, and looked over his shoulder. "What did you find?" 

"It's a reprimand given to a junior mechanic. Evidently, he went AWOL one night, and was spotted by the MP guards. It lists all items in the possession of the mechanic at the time of his arrest. I find this the most curious." He tapped at one line; 'golden-colored talisman'. "That sounds very much like what we're looking for." 

Sally nodded. "So, we can probably skip going to Lake Victoria. Does it say what he was doing off base?" 

"Yeah - _The private states he left the grounds to visit his girlfriend, who resides in a nearby town. The private did not feel he was neglecting his duties, as the away period did not last more than a few hours, and while crucial to keep his relationship alive, meant nothing to keep the base operational._" 

She chuckled. "Sounds like young Mr. Walker was in love." 

Wufei shrugged. "Or a delinquent. The record continues. _The private believes he would not have been granted leave by his superior officer, whom he believes has an active interest in disrupting the relationship, as the lady in question is a relative of the officer. The private is scheduled for transfer to pilot duty on a mobile suit unit currently stationed at Newport City Spaceport by the end of the week, and believed he would not be allowed by his superior to ask his relative for her hand in marriage before then._" 

"Well, that's certainly interesting. Does it say what happened?" 

Wufei skimmed the rest of the text. "It says no disciplinary action was taken, given his otherwise spotless record and his transfer." 

A smile. "Does it say what _happened_?" 

Wufei rolled his eyes. "What is with this extreme desire women have to know every little detail of any love life they hear about?" 

That remark earned him a punch in the shoulder. "A proposal is not a 'little detail', Wufei." 

Snort. "Well, it doesn't appear the lady's answer is in this file - but guessing from the answers 'the private' gave, it sounds like a positive one to me." 

Smirk. "So, young Mr. Walker got engaged." Slight gasp. "Wait, Mrs. Walker didn't mention anything like this." 

Wufei shrugged. "Maybe it fell through. Maybe the girl said no, maybe she didn't like the long-distance relationship. And maybe he didn't want to discuss his love life with his mother, especially if it was failing." 

"Maybe..." 

Silence. 

Wufei put the file back in the cabinet, and closed the drawer. "So, what do we do next? Search after the fiancée, or head for Newport City?" 

Sally pushed the other drawer shut with her foot, and instead went for the one she had searched through when they first got there, taking a second look at the brown folders there. "Both. I think we should seek out the young woman before heading to Newport City. If she lived here, and her affair with Walker was known among the base personnel, she might have been given his personal effects after his death." 

"You don't think those would have been shipped to the mother?" 

She shrugged. "Probably - but some things might have been overlooked until they decommissioned the base. It's worth looking into, Wufei - we need every lead we can get." 

He sighed. "You're probably right." 

Sally continued rifling through the folders. 

"What are you looking for this time?" 

She smirked. "Something I didn't think was relevant earlier - there was a folder here somewhere that-" She paused to snap up a folder from the very rear of the drawer. "Here it is. Marriage license applications." 

Wufei frowned. "Why would those be stored _here_?" 

With a short snicker, Sally opened the manila folder and skimmed the documents within. "These aren't the 'real' documents. It was part of Alliance protocol that any marriage a soldier entered, was to be registered at their place of service, partly because of next-of-kin protocols and regulations, partly because they were hesitant to send family men and women into the line of fire, and partly because the Alliance had a fondness for red tape. Anything they didn't approve of, got covered in it. They didn't like their troops to have spouses; soldiers with loved ones usually try to stay alive, so there's a tiny risk orders wouldn't be obeyed if they were virtually suicide missions. The Alliance preferred soldiers married to their career and to the armed forces." 

As she spoke, Sally kept sifting through page after page of documents, searching for names. Unlike most of the records in the archive, these were civilian documents in nature, and signatures thus more practical than identification numbers. She was well over halfway through the minuscule stack of papers when she stopped. 

"Looks like we have a winner - This is the paper for one John Walker and a Francesca Sabatini, both with signatures and all the right stamps." 

Wufei folded his arms, yet again leaning against the file cabinets. "So they _did_ marry?" 

"Perhaps. They had filled in the paperwork to make it happen, but that doesn't mean they went through with it. Remember, Walker was transferred shortly after the proposal. For all we know, they had time to fill in a few forms before he left - but the date of approval on this piece of paper is after the date he was transferred, judging from the disciplinary record." She put the documents back into the folder, the folder in the drawer and the drawer in the cabinet. "I guess we have to ask Ms. Sabatini whether or not they got married." 

Wufei smirked. "If they got married, she wouldn't be 'Ms. Sabatini' anymore." 

Sally placed one elbow on the file cabinets, resting against it. "Oh, I don't know - not all women change their names in marriage, and sometimes, it's the groom that takes a new name." 

Snort, but no real answer. 

"Regardless, I'm sure the locals know her old name." She pushed away from the archives and began walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at her partner. "Let's go, Wufei. We have another house call to make." 

Wufei rolled his eyes, but followed nevertheless. 

------- 

The small town was stretching up a hillside, giving the impression the military base had pushed the town away from the scarce flat grounds. At least, they had had the courtesy of putting the runways on the far side of the administration center, sheltering the hamlet at least somewhat from the noise and pollution. 

Finding Walker's fiancée was trickier; though Sally and Wufei had asked several people - including the clerk at the post office - the name wasn't familiar to them. Undeterred, they continued asking, and by a fountain in the center of town they had luck. A priest they found sitting on a bench next to the fountain remembered the name and gave them her address, but gave only a knowing smile when Wufei asked why nobody else knew her. "Ask her," the priest had answered. "She only used that name twice." Then, the elderly man had given a quick excuse before hurrying away. 

The address was for a remote cottage nearly at the top of one of the hills surrounding the town. Wufei had asked for directions three times, and everyone referred to it as 'Francesca's place' - albeit nobody knew her as 'Sabatini' - or 'Walker', for that matter. To them, she was 'Francesca Celea'. Upon asking why, they just got a puzzled shrug and "Well, that's her name." 

The dirt path in the grassy slope continued winding up through outcrops of rock and sparse oak trees, and after only a few minutes the last few buildings at the town's edge went out of sight. An aircraft roaring its engines back at the base could still be heard, but barely. The hill wasn't all that steep, but certainly enough to be a nightmare for mailmen or takeout services. The two agents slowed down, neither of them wanting to run out of breath nor desiring to take a break - because even asking for one would be an admittance of weakness. The sun, though falling closer and closer to the horizon, didn't help things. Sally wiped a few sweat droplets away from her forehead. "So... I guess they didn't marry after all." 

Wufei gave a muffled grunt, kicking aside a sizable pebble that had lost its way from the small scree to the left onto the path. "Good for them." 

Sally chuckled. "Have something against marriage, Wufei?" 

He stopped. "How much have I told you about my past?" 

She shrugged, folded her arms and rested against one of the boulders holding the scree back. "Not more than you've wanted to share - which isn't a lot." 

"I was married once." 

"Oh..." 

Wufei smirked at seeing her mild surprise. "It was an arranged marriage. We hated each other." 

Tentative smile. "Sorry to hear that, Wufei. Still, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." 

Grunt. "I guess that makes me the strongest man alive." His smirk faded away, and he took to studying the path. "No, that's unfair to her. We argued a lot, and I don't think we ever agreed on anything, except for a field of flowers. There was a small open area on our colony where wildflowers grew - as wild as they can get on colonies, at least. She gave her life for those flowers..." 

Sally put a hand on his shoulder, but didn't know what to say, and thus ended up saying precisely the right thing; nothing at all. 

He met her eyes, face hardened. "You once asked me if 'Nataku' was the name of my Gundam. It was, at least to me. It was also _her_ name, in the end. I always felt - I don't know, _something_ - about that suit that kept reminding me of her, as if her spirit watched over it. A friend once suggested I was having trouble parting from her memory, since I named the one thing I would have trouble surviving the war without after her." The smirk returned, and he gave a short snort. "Maybe he was right." 

She gently rubbed his shoulder. "It's always hard to lose your loved ones." 

He frowned, grunted and pushed away her arm before resuming the hike up the path. "I already told you - we hated each other." 

Sally smirked, sighed, and walked after him, deciding not to push the poor boy further - she had gained a little more insight into the enigma that was Wufei, and for today that was enough. 

------- 

The terrain flattened again - which was but natural, considering the hill top - and an ancient low fence made of stone was barely visible though weeds and moss, circling a small homestead in. There wasn't any gate; the path just went through a gap in the low wall. As the fence couldn't live up to be a barrier, there was no need for a gate. Within the fence, there were sheep, at least two dozen. They bleated at the intruders to their pasture, one tiny lamb staggered over on wobbly legs to greet them, only to return to its mother after getting two gentle pats on the head by Sally. 

Right about then did the attack come. 

One deep bleat of a war cry was all the warning they got before Wufei got hit on his _lower_ lower back - blunt bump to butt sending him sprawling to the grassy ground, one hand landing in a tiny group of small, black nodules. He scowled at the perpetrator, a ram with a far messier fleece than any of the other animals. Wufei sat up, looked at his hand and glared even harder at the poor beast, before trying to wipe it off on the grass. Sally's laughter didn't help much, nor the triumphant bleating of the offending sheep, which trotted away along the lowered fence, mission accomplished. In the doorway of the tiny house on the hill, a young woman with short dark curls and a dark blue dress appeared. "Zander, you stop that!" She hurried over to them, and she offered her hand to help Wufei up. He shook his head and got up on his own. "I'm so terribly sorry. Zander is very territorial, you see. The gate is part of his domain. I've never seen such an aggressive sheep, other than the wild ones further inland." 

Wufei snorted as he brushed himself off - with the unsoiled hand, of course. "A _sheep_ for a sentinel - that's one step closer to having seen everything." 

The woman giggled, and suddenly noticed Wufei's hand. "Oh, please come inside - you probably want to wash that off." 

He rolled his eyes. Hearing the obvious is known to have that effect, among others. 

------- 

The interior of the building was as modest as the exterior; three rooms in all, a small stove and refrigerator next to the fireplace, a counter with an out-of-place bathroom sink - which Wufei quickly put to good use - a small wooden table with a bench on each side, each bench draped with fleece. The woman quickly explained the two doors at the back led to two small bedrooms. All there was of a bath, was the outhouse out behind the cottage. She replaced the water canister below the sink, and filled up a small kettle. She noticed their looks, and grinned. "Indoor plumbing hasn't reached all the way up here yet." She pointed at the lamp dangling from the ceiling. "We have electricity, but that's all this place really needs. I find it easier to buy the water barrels I need. Now, please sit down, I'll make us some tea." She put the kettle on the stove before joining them, the two agents on the bench along the wall, her on the edge of the other bench. "So, what can I help you with? This is a bit out of season for tourists..." 

Sally smiled, reached inside one of her shirt pockets and pulled out the Preventer badge to show her. She nodded in response. "Are you Francesca Sabatini?" 

Her right brow went skywards. "No... My name is Francesca Celea." 

Sally put the badge away again. "My name is Sally Po, this is my colleague, Wufei Chang. We were wondering if you knew a young man named John Walker." 

At first stunned, she answered. "Oh..." And silence descended for a few seconds, only to be shattered by a whistle. "_Oh_ - the water is done." She leaped up and ran over to the stove to turn the heat off, then went after three cups, spoons and a small basket of assorted tea bags from the cupboard above the sink. She brought it the cups and tea bags over first, then the kettle and an insular pad for it. She smiled. "Sorry about the interruption. You were asking about John?" 

"So, you know him?" 

She nodded as she poured water in all three cups. "Yes, I knew him. We were engaged at one time - well, we were _supposed_ to be." 

Sally absentmindedly took one of the tea bags, not taking notice of the label before passing the basket to Wufei. "Supposed?" 

Again, Francesca nodded. "I met him when he worked as a mechanic down at the military base." She sighed, put both elbows on the table, and let her chin rest against her palms. "Must be nearly five years ago now... We were young, foolish and headstrong. We were in love, and wanted to get married. _I_ wanted to, at least. John was a bit reluctant, but when he was scheduled for transfer, I more or less demanded his commitment." She giggled briefly, before letting go another sigh. "I was so stupid to believe things would work out. You see, my older brother Alberto was John's boss down at the base - that's how I got to meet John in the first place. Alberto didn't approve of us dating, however - you know how protective brothers can be." 

Wufei searched through the basket as Francesca spoke, trying to find something that was in accordance with his tastes. In the end, he settled for a mild herbal mix, and passed the basket back to its owner, who straightened up, picked out a yellow tea bag, and began dipping it in her cup of water. 

"We didn't want Alberto to find out what we were planning, so we talked about it in secret with the town priest. He told us about all the papers we had to fill in, and since Alberto had friends both in the administration at city hall and at the personnel office down at the base, we couldn't be open about it. We couldn't forge the documents either - but the priest suggested I use my mother's maiden name in the documents instead." 

Sally halted in dipping her tea bag, and rolled it up on a spoon before taking a sip of the brew. "Sabatini?" 

Francesca smirked. "Correct. The papers would be valid, although I would have to sign my _full_ name for the final documents, attesting John and I were wed. He handed in the paper he needed to at the base, and I filed the rest. We scheduled a very private ceremony with the priest - just him, John and me - for just a few days before John was to leave. With a different last name, Alberto's friends didn't take notice, so my brother didn't find out." 

Wufei took a sip from his tea, the taste vaguely disagreeing with him - but not enough not to drink. "A report we found suggests your brother _did_ find out." 

She put her cup down. "Oh?" 

"John was caught while sneaking back into the base, and-" 

As he spoke, Francesca grew a knowing smile. "Oh, right - you see, the big day arrived, and I got cold feet, big time. It suddenly dawned on me what we were about to do, and John had already proven what I wanted; he'd given the sign of commitment I wanted. I told him as much, and we called the wedding off." She snickered. "The priest seemed a bit relieved by the whole affair. He's a friend of my parents, and had been a bit reluctant to perform the wedding without their knowing, but he trusted my judgement, the dear old fool. Two days later, though - or more correctly, one day and half a night later - John came to see me. He had gone AWOL to see me. I had barely managed to open my bedroom window before he went down on one knee and offered me the same ring we had picked out for the wedding. At first I thought he was kidding - then I realized he was dead serious. He said he wanted to marry me - for _real_, this time, and in the open. I was speechless - I don't know how long it took before I was able to stutter out a 'yes'." She sighed. "You should have seen how John lit up..." 

Sally sipped at her tea, having had luck in her random selection, judging by her smile - or perhaps there was another reason for it. "Did you get married?" 

Francesca sighed. "No. I announced the engagement to my parents. They gave their consent, though Alberto argued very much against it. He kept us apart until the day John left for Newport City, and we didn't have much time then." Another sigh, grin. "We didn't waste those few moments alone to fill in papers..." 

Wufei accidentally got a bit of tea down his windpipe, coughing to regain normal breathing. The woman opposite had the nerve to laugh, so he shot her a ferocious glare. 

"He left, of course. We stayed in touch, exchanging long letters and the occasional vid-phone call - those were rare, since this place doesn't have a phone line, and John was always busy with his piloting job. He was so proud of that..." She smiled. "Once in a while, he got a leave long enough to travel from wherever he was stationed to come visit. Those days always passed in a blur, and were much too short... We discussed finalizing our vows, but I kept insisting he at least finish his first tour of duty first. I didn't want to wed during a short two-day break." Her smile faded, another sigh. "Maybe it was for the better - if we _had_ gotten married, I'd be a widow already..." 

Sally reached out to place a comforting hand on Francesca's folded ones. "We're sorry for your loss." 

Francesca shrugged. "Yeah... Well, don't be. It's been two years now, I've moved on - at least, I'm trying to. Alberto hasn't changed." She forced a grin. 

Wufei had had just about enough. Sure, the tale was interesting enough, but it had no relevance whatsoever to why they were here. His patience was running dangerously low, and his sense of civility might even be endangered soon. He cleared his throat to gain the women's attention. "Ms. Celea, we are searching for an item that was in the possession of John Walker - it's a small amulet, probably tied to a string, with an-" 

"With an image of a ram on it?" She nodded, straightening up again, withdrawing her arms to cross them over her bosom, sincere grin growing. "Yes, I've seen that one - many times. It was just about the only thing I could never lure off John..." 

Sally chuckled, Wufei fought an oncoming blush - successfully so. 

"I don't think he ever parted with that. He inherited it from his father, and it meant a lot to him. I sometimes wondered if he'd choose that trinket over me, if he was forced to make the choice. I certainly never dared ask. It was as if that thing was a part of him." 

Wufei ended his struggles with his internal heating with a cough. "When was the last time you saw it?" 

Francesca giggled, and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Why, when I last saw the _rest_ of him, of course." 

This time, Wufei lost the fight, and his cheeks gained just a hint of coloring. 

She grinned at him, happy with the result, before her face grew grave. "The last time I saw John, was just hours before he died in combat down at the base. He arrived here the day before the rest of his unit, and spent the night up here. The poor man was so tense, I could barely make him relax - it was as if he knew he was going to die. When he left that morning, he was lost for words, and he wasn't even able to mutter his usual 'arrivederci' as he walked to the gate. I thought he was upset with me for something, and I was afraid I was losing him. I went back inside to get some tea to calm down on, and stem the tears. It wasn't until Alberto came by in the evening with the bad news I let them go." Her eyes glistened. "I'm sorry, but that's all I know - John never parted from that amulet, not even in death." A sole tear led the way for its siblings. Francesca wiped them all away. 

Wufei had definitely heard enough now. He leant in towards Sally, and whispered in her ear. "You try to calm her down, I'll head back to the city and inform Lady Une the 'Aries' symbol is lost." 

Sally gave him a faint frown, but nodded in agreement nevertheless. Wufei got up, quickly excused himself and went out the door. He could hear Sally say words of comfort, but didn't linger. Instead, he made way through the flock of sheep outside, careful with where he stepped. A few agitated bleats could be heard, one a bit deeper than the others. 

------- 

Within the cottage, Francesca had regained her composure, now upset at her behavior. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd be over it by now." 

"Sometimes love lasts forever." 

Francesca nodded. "The pain and sense of loss lingers a long time, too..." 

From outside, they could hear the sheep growing restless, bleating and bells blending. 

Amidst drying tears, Francesca dared a single, short chuckle. "I hope Zander won't bother Mr. Chang again. That ram attacks almost everyone that passes through. I'm allowed to pass, and the mailman. Zander let John pass through too, after he won their head-butting contest." 

Sally flagged a questioning brow. 

Francesca snickered, wiping away the last moist droplets. "It was when Zander was barely more than a lamb. He was showing his aggressive behavior already back then. John just wanted to play with him. I warned him not to anger Zander, but John didn't listen. Next thing I know I hear a cry in pain, and he comes in, clutching his head. He had gotten a few cuts, which I treated. He told me what happened, and I couldn't help but laugh. Through the window, I could see Zander was fine. It was very clear who the winner was. Still, Zander took to respecting John after that. That ram has never allowed anyone to touch him, much less wash or shear him, except for John. That's why his wool coat is so messy. I just let him serve as a gatekeeper and doorbell - Zander is a good intruder alarm." She smiled. 

------- 

Wufei could hear the hoofs approaching from behind him, and knew just what anything-but-docile sheep was gaining on him. He glanced over his shoulder, and was able to side-step Zander's first attack. The ram halted, and with nostrils flaring like a bull, the ragged beast turned to face its opponent yet again, starting another charge. Wufei prepared to face the beast, but as fate would have it managed to step in a tiny pile of round, black unmentionables, slipping just as Zander was upon him. He reached out while trying to avoid the ram's impact, ending up grasping the animal's neck and spinning to land on top of the sheep - something that was _not_ appreciated. Zander set out at full gallop alongside the low stone fence, shaking all the while to get the unwelcome rider off. Pride prevented Wufei from shouting for help, but the wild movements of the rabid sheep, occasionally scraping him along the stone fence, pounded him enough to force out muffled cries of pain. 

------- 

Sally looked up. "Did you hear something?" 

Francesca took another sip from her tea, and shook her head. "No, I don't think so." 

"I'm sorry we had to put you through this, Ms. Celea." 

She sighed. "No, that's okay. I'll get over him soon, I'm sure - I mean, that last day... He couldn't say goodbye to _me_, but he had time to pet Zander farewell." She chuckled. "What kind of husband would he make if he could associate with sheep more easily than with his wife?" 

Sally smiled in response. 

------- 

Wufei had had enough; he was getting off this ride. Apparently, Zander had the same idea, as the ram suddenly stalled, causing Wufei to lose his grip, though he frantically grasped at the fleece as he fell over the sheep's head, and the stone fence beyond - the latter impacting with his lower back as he tumbled over it and down a fair bit of the grassy hill, at last coming to a halt against a boulder. Ignoring the pain, he sat up, trying to verify if he had any broken bones or serious injuries, happy to reach the conclusion he had none - though he could feel several scratches and bruises, and something that had gotten stuck in his hand... 

------- 

Sally stood up. "Now I'm _sure_ I heard something." She went over to the window, but saw nothing circumspect. Francesca walked up beside her. 

"Doesn't look like anything is wrong. Maybe it's the silence that's getting to you? I know several of the tourists that come here have trouble adjusting to the lack of city noises." 

"Maybe..." 

------- 

His vision begun to clear, and he took the object in his hands in closer inspection. Small, triangular, with a snapped string dangling from one end. Wufei blinked a few times, scraped aside some of the dirt covering the little trinket. Sure enough, the head of a ram, in gold, glared back at him. Despite pain, he smirked, closed his fingers around the amulet, and staggered to his feet, seeking support on the boulder. His dazed mind began clearing, his sense of balance restored itself, and the exhilaration of triumph slowly gave way to the assignment. He had to get back to Sally to show her- 

"Hello there, young man." 

Wufei immediately spun towards the voice, taking a defensive stance, wincing as he did so. The new arrival was an elderly man, white hair and moustache, gray coat, walking cane in one hand, brown hat in the other, lifted off in greeting. The man put his hat back on, and took a few steps closer. "Stay back," Wufei warned. Compliance. 

"I only wish to discuss something with you, sir - but not here." 

Even Wufei's still blurred brain could make out the distinct British accent in the stranger's voice. "Identify yourself." 

The man gave a short gasp, before smiling, free hand immediately going for the hat again. "Oh, forgive me." He minutely lifted the hat, and made a short nod. "Berthrand Chauser, at your service." 

"I am-" 

"Preventer Agent Wufei Chang - yes, I know. Now, young man, if you would come peacefully, I only wish to exchange a few words." 

"I will go nowhere with you. The only place I'm going is back up the-" He suddenly heard the footsteps behind him, and in the fraction of a second it took to turn to see the second unknown, he cursed his still dulled senses for not watching his back, outraged with himself for making such a grievous tactical blunder. In that same second, he felt a sting in his neck, and swatted at it in pure reflex, finding a tiny dart there. Wufei immediately launched an assault on his attacker, only to stumble at the first step, his body going unresponsive, and his mind giving way to drowsiness, rapidly heading towards sleep. He turned to the old man again, staggered over to him. "You... I'll..." He collapsed, the old man's henchman catching him before he hit the ground. 

"My apologies, young man, but it appears the scales do not tip in your favor today. Now, sleep. We'll talk later." 

If the man said anything else, Wufei never registered, as oblivion engulfed him. 

* * *

-end Aries-   
-TBC?- 

AN: Okay, this 'fic is already my lenghtiest work, and it's barely 1/4 done, judging from my original outline/plan. Of course, according to statistics, it is also my least popular one. Ah, well. :-)   
  
I've lost track of how many hours I've spent typing on this thing as it is. Given the length of it, I'm sure you've spent some time reading through it too, in order to get this far. I'd greatly appreciate it if you could also take the few minutes - and inconvenience - to leave a line, even a single word worth, of review. Honesty appreciated, critique welcome. Heck, just an indication you want to read more of it would be a nice scribbling-boost. In the meantime, I'll work on the next chapter of both _Escaping Solitude_ as well as this one - though probably a bit more on the former. 

  
  
  
  
  



	6. First Realignment

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
First Realignment

AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue.   
  
Again, sorry for the wait - Only a short interlude this time though, not a full chapter.   
  
My thanks to Maeko, cardinal, Link Worshiper, Tiger Shinigami and Windrage Shinigami for reviewing - oh, and Link, ease up on the caffeine pills. They're only hurtful in the long run. ;-) ...as for reading the ending, no worries; you shall, eventually. I have no plans whatsoever to discontinue work on this story, but I have to write it at my own, slow pace. Please have patience. ;-) 

* * *

  


The propellers on the plane whirled up a true sandstorm as Duo prepared to disembark. Still, it didn't bother him much. The feathers sticking to his bag, his clothes, his hands and his face were of greater annoyance. Even so, when the going gets tough, the tough get going to their destinations with whatever means of transportation they can find - which usually isn't much to brag about. His backside ached from the rough ride. He glanced back inside the fuselage, and between the stacks of poultry cages he could see the heavily black-bearded pilot and the lightly veiled co-pilot, both with a pair of funky pilot goggles, waving back at him from the cockpit. One could be excused for thinking wearing such goggles was a common Arab fashion statement. He spit out a chicken feather, grinned, waved pack and stepped out, noticed just in time there was no stairs beyond the hatch, grasped at the frame and barely avoided falling down. He looked to the side, and saw the three-step detachable staircase resting next to the hatch, installed it, took the steps down and jumped the last bit to the ground. 

Duo held on to his baseball cap and shielded his face from the flying grains of sand with one hand, the other tightly clutching his bag. On the far side of the packed dirt airstrip, he spotted Sally leaning against a beaten-down jeep. She waved at him as he walked over. At last beyond the reach of the propellers' draft, he waved back. 

"Hi, Sally," he shouted, trying to bring his voice through the noise from the aircraft's engines. "What's the latest?" 

She waited until he was close enough to avoid shouting the reply. "I've found out where they're holding Wufei." 

Duo put his bag down. "Huh? I thought you said he defected, or something." 

Sally gave him a quizzical look. "Didn't you hear what I said on the vidphone?" 

With a sheepish grin, he scratched the back of his neck. "Well, you see... The line was really, really bad. I could barely make out the place you wanted me to go - this place." 

She rolled her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me the line wasn't good?" 

"I didn't really have _time_ - you were talking a mile a minute, and I was a bit stressed myself. I caught a few words, like the name of this lovely location." He demonstratively swept his hand along the horizon, pointing out the low, arid hilltops and sun-torched bushes. 

Sally rubbed her temples, fighting the oncoming headache, slight temper marking her voice, though fading as she spoke. "Okay. I'll go over this one more time... When I got back to Corsica base and didn't find Wufei there, I began asking the base staff if they'd seen him. No one had, so I called Lady Une to alert her Wufei was gone, and that I'd be looking for him. Then I went into the nearby town, and found out a young man matching Wufei's description had been seen carried through the back streets by a large brute, apparently unconscious. The big fellow was escorted by a smaller, elderly man. They were heading for the airport, so I went there to get the flight logs and passenger rosters. Found out they had chartered a small jet, and headed for Dimashq." 

"Dimashq?" 

"Damascus." 

"So... Why are we here, miles and miles _north_ of Damascus, and not there?" 

"Because this was the closest airfield to our destination. I went to Damascus, got a few helpful airport officials to point me in the right direction - Wufei's captors rented two jeeps, and the clerk remembered what road they took. Those jeeps helped a bit in tracking them down, as the rental company likes to advertise with their vehicles." 

She took a step to the side, revealing a hideously messy company logo; Arabic letters, ornamental swords, some sort of leaves, a star or five and even a car hidden amidst it all, crammed together on a coat of arms backdrop, the entire thing in colorful shades of gray. Duo cringed on the sight. "Yeah, I can see how that one would stick to mind, even if you fought it." 

Sally smirked. "They traveled to a small compound about half an hour's drive from here. The place looked abandoned, but the camouflage netting they dragged over the cars hadn't been applied properly. I'm sure it'd be adequate to prevent aircraft or satellites from spotting any activity there, but from the nearby hillside I was on, a set of binoculars were enough to see they were hiding there. I doubted they'd be moving Wufei to another location, so I drove here, called back to headquarters, and got your call patched through. That's basically it. We can take the rest of the details as we drive back - okay?" 

"Yeah, sure." Duo put his bag in the back of the jeep, tucking it in between the right-side wheel cover and six huge gas cans, tightly strapped down to the flat section along with two wooden crates, not only side-to-side between the hooks above the wheel covers, but also from the spare tire at the back to the roll bar behind the seats. Apparently, the car rental company was determined not to get any 'I ran out of gas' or an accompanying 'I couldn't find a gas station' excuse for late return of the vehicle. 

The aircraft's engines died off, propeller blades flapping to a halt. They both looked back as a flatbed truck drove over, stopping by the rear side hatch. The pilots and the truck driver began unloading the poultry cages onto the truck. 

Sally walked around to the driver's side of the jeep, but Duo froze, jaw vaguely drooping. "Did I fly here in _that_?" 

Sally opened her door. "What, didn't you see the plane before take-off?" 

He turned to her, and got in the jeep. "Well, not really - There was a huge thunderstorm over Munich Aerodrome when we landed, and the heavy rains hadn't exactly diminished when I managed to find a flight heading for this godforsaken airstrip. Couldn't see a foot ahead outside as the overzealous madman of a pilot more or less dragged me across the tarmac to the plane. I knew it was a cargo hauler, but I didn't ask what the freight was. Wish I had." He picked out one last chicken feather that had gotten stuck in his braid. "Heck, I was damn lucky to find a flight going here in the first place." He nodded towards the plane. " 'Flight' meaning that thing, though I think I consider it a miracle that plane - and me with it - got off the ground in the first place, much less made it all the way here in one piece. Look at it - that thing has to be _ancient_!" 

Sally snickered as she started the engine. "Not really. I think that's a DCR." 

"A what?" 

"DCR - It's a highly improved Replica model of the DC-3 aircraft, one of the most successful designs in aviation history." 

"Never heard of either." 

"Doesn't surprise me. The DC-3 design is some 270 years old." 

"What?! Are you saying I voluntarily flew in a piece of junk _that_ old? I like tinkering with antique machinery, but jeez..." 

She laughed. "Not at all, Duo. The DCR model was designed a mere 120 years ago, when they realized they needed a workhorse that could service remote places - such as this - at reasonable maintenance expenses and freight capacity. The DC-3 had many of the qualities needed, so they took that, mixed in 150 years of avionics advancement, and got a design almost as successful as its predecessor." 

Duo crossed his arms, muttering something about 'rain', 'junk', 'flying coffin' and mixing in a few choice words that could have made even the shadiest resident of L2 blush. 

With a grin, Sally put the jeep in gear, and the transmission protested loudly, signaling its lack of recent maintenance. "You know, that tin-can just _might_ be a genuine C-47 cargo hauler - the military transporter type of the DC-3. Perhaps you flew the real deal, after all." 

Somewhat shell-shocked, Duo was about to offer a rebuttal when Sally pressed the gas pedal, causing the old jeep to jump into action - literally; starting with a hard skip before the wheels spun into the dirt road as it soared ahead. Whatever Duo had planned to say, was forgotten as the seat impacted his already aircraft-abused back, knocking the wind out of him, and he frantically searched out the seatbelt, attaching it before Sally hit the first turn. 

To bring her voice across the engine noise, Sally near-yelled. "So, what was the stressful situation back at Munich Aerodrome? You weren't put out just by some bad weather, were you?" 

The jeep made another light series of jumps as it hit a rocky section of road. Duo grabbed the door frame with one hand, his black baseball cap with the other. "Of course not. It was more the landing procedure and trying to escape prosecution." 

Sally shot him a brief, odd look, inquiry written all across her face. 

Duo grinned. "See, the captain on the shuttle announced we might not land at Munich after all, because of the weather - we were about to be re-routed to Frankfurt Spaceport instead. Heero disapproved, since we had already told Lady Une we were heading for Munich, and our contact would be there. He went up in the cockpit to 'chat with the pilot', he said." Snicker. "He closed the door, so I don't know what happened. Wasn't any further announcements made over the shuttle's PA system, and the stewardesses told us to fasten our seatbelts. The landing was rough, given the thunderstorm - but we got down in one piece, though more than one vomit bag on that shuttle were put to good use. Heero didn't come out of the cockpit until the shuttle had taxied to the right aisle, so I'm not _entirely_ sure if he convinced the pilot to land, put the pilot at gunpoint or in a chokehold and convinced him that way, or knocked the poor guy unconscious and landed the shuttle himself." 

"It better not have been either of the last two - that would be in serious violation of protocol. Lady Une would _not_ be pleased." 

Duo gave a short chuckle. "Well, I _think_ I recognized the moves of the landing as Heero's handiwork, but I'm not sure... After we'd given the Aquarius key piece to our contact, I asked Heero about it, but he wouldn't tell me what happened up in the cockpit. Told me to forget it, before he ran off to rent a car." 

"Car?" 

"Yeah. He's to meet with Quatre and some other contact in Vienna. I'm don't know who or why, but those were Lady Une's orders." 

"And what about Trowa?" 

"I think he's teaming up with Lady Une on L1. Don't know any more about that, either. I'm sure the good lady found a few leads at both ends." 

Sally nodded. "So, we have at least one piece of Ziegler's key." 

"Two. Trowa and Quatre found the Leo segment at L3. Never thought they'd be able to track down the thing with such a cold trail - gives us hope for the rest of the zodiac, doesn't it?" 

Sally sighed, and veered the jeep down a road branching out to the left - if it could even be called a road. Duo grabbed a hold of the dashboard, and winced as he felt two wheels leave the ground, if but a few inches, and for a few seconds. "Duo, we might have run out of luck already. Wufei and I were tracking down the Aries piece. Apparently, one of you pilots destroyed its owner - and the token along with him - during the war." 

Duo slumped, glared into the dashboard and clenched his fists. "Damn." He snapped to face Sally. "Eleven pieces aren't enough, right? We have to have _all_ twelve for the key to work, right?" 

Sally nodded. 

He threw his arms up in the air in frustration, only to knock his cap off, quick reflexes snapping it up before the wind caught it. He put it firmly back on. "Great. Just great." 

She ventured a brief, vague smile. "We'll worry about that later. Right now, we have to free Wufei." 

Yeah..." He leant back in his seat, and crossed his arms. "Don't you think it's weird he got nabbed? I mean, Wufei isn't exactly helpless." 

Sally shrugged, making another tight turn along the winding, nigh-on invisible cattle trail. "That has me puzzled too. From the last witness account I got back in Damascus, he was still unconscious. Perhaps they drugged him somehow. It doesn't really matter, though. We can always ask Wufei when we get him out of that place." 

Duo grinned. "What makes you think he hasn't already escaped? I doubt he'd be sitting idle in a cell, if he's awake." 

Sally dared smirk. "Could be, Duo. Could be - but just in case he's not awake yet, or in case the compound's security is too much for him to escape, we'll help." 

"Well, don't we need some 'tools'? Guns, explosives, lockpicks, ham sandwiches?" 

She shot him an odd glare. 

He grinned. "Well, I'm _hungry_. Couldn't eat my lunch on the flight here, could I? All those chicks jabbing like crazy, and feathers and dust everywhere. I swear, it was worse than a high school cafeteria - Who'd want to even _try_ to eat something in those surroundings?" 

Sally snickered. "Why do I get the impression you made the attempt?" 

The grin grew quite sheepish, and Duo lowered himself a bit further into his seat. "Well... The flight was really, really boring. Had to do something, figured I might as well put the time to good use. Regretted it as soon as I got a mouthful of feathers, instead of ham." 

Snicker, continued. "When we reach the site, we'll find ourselves a good lookout point. We can eat while we observe and plan. Deal?" 

"Deal." The jeep swerved again, tires spinning in the gravel as the vehicle strived to cross another low hilltop. Grabbing a hold of the doorframe was becoming second nature to Duo now. "What about equipment?" 

Sally pointed her thumb at the cargo section, not taking her eyes off the would-be road. "I did some shopping while I waited for your flight to arrive. I think we have everything we need in those two crates back there." 

Duo turned to look at the anonymous-looking crates. "Well, that depends on what we're up against." He faced front, and shrugged. "I'm sure we'll manage." 

"We'd better. Those crates depleted my cash reserves. Black market goods aren't plentiful anymore." 

Brief chuckle. "Preventer laws finally coming back to bite you in the butt, huh?" 

She smirked, spun the steering wheel hard to make another tight turn at far beyond recommendable velocities. Two wheels definitely left the ground. Duo gritted his teeth, knuckles at the door frame turning white, free hand grabbing the roll bar. As the driver side again hit ground, he let go a sigh of relief. 

"Sheesh. Sally, I know you're aching to spring Wufei out of jail, but do you _have_ to attempt killing us in the process?" 

She gave him a quick, fiery glare. "If _you_ were the one in the cell, I'm betting you wouldn't mind if the rescue came quickly, instead of too late." 

Duo rolled his eyes, crossed his arms again. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." 

For a whole three minutes, the roars of the engine, the shrieks of bad suspension and the sound of rubber clawing at gravel, dirt and dust was all there was of noise. The truce of silence didn't last, though. 

"Uhm, Sally?" 

"Yes?" 

"The guys that kidnapped Wufei - do you know anything more about them? Or how many goons they've got guarding that compound?" 

Another hilltop, jeep clearing it with a jump, landing not-so-gently, wheels spinning against the pebbles below as Sally floored the gas pedal yet again, smirking at hearing Duo's vague gasp and gnashing of teeth. "I've got something better - there was a small tour group at just the right time and place back at Corsica. One of the hobby photographers snapped a shot of a fountain, catching our 'friends' in the background. After some gentle persuasion and flashing the Preventer badge, I got the photograph. I have it here somewhere, just-" She kept one hand at the wheel, using the other to reach for the inner pocket of her vest. After some brief searching, she got a hold of the Polaroid in question, and handed it to Duo. He was about to grab it when they hit another sharp turn, and he felt his side of the car get airborne, climbing to a forty-five degree angle before he threw his weight over the door, forcing the vehicle down again with a crash and loud protests of the nearly dead suspension. Infuriated, he snapped the photo from Sally's fingers. 

"Would you _please_ keep both hands on the steering wheel?!" He went on to mumble some quite vivid expressions, all of which were buried by the engine roar - except one little sentence commenting 'woman drivers', which reached Sally's ear. On near-automatic reflex, she gave him a hard punch to the shoulder. 

"If you have a problem with my driving, you're welcome to walk." 

Wise of injury, Duo shut up - for a few seconds. "You know, you're just like Hilde. How come every woman on _and_ off the planet think I'm such a damn good punching bag? Now, if they were hitting on me, instead of landing hits on me-" He forgot whatever else he intended to say as he took in the three figures in the background of the photograph. The brute carrying the unconscious Wufei he didn't recognize, but the elderly gentleman leading the way rung a bell. "Hey, I _know_ this guy!" 

Sally raised a brow. "What do you mean?" 

Duo tapped the photo fervently. "This old guy - someone with his exact description tried to get to Howard's stuff back on L2 - and I swear I've seen that hat before." He rubbed his forehead with his free hand - something he regretted as soon as the jeep hit another pothole or five in the non-road, rattling its passengers up pretty good. He cursed as his sore back got another pounding. Sally smirked. 

"Where did you say you saw him?" 

"I didn't - When Heero and I went to search through Howard's junk, the clerk told us there had been another guy there to get the stuff, too. The description the clerk gave fits the old man here just perfectly - and I _know_ I've seen that hat somewhere..." 

Sally shrugged. "You could have seen that hat just about anywhere, Duo." 

"Yeah, I know, but there's something that's-" Epiphany hit. "Wait, _that_ is where I saw this hat - on the flight up to L2! There was a guy with a hat just like this a few seats in front of us." 

Sally eased up a bit on the gas pedal, and gave Duo a worried glance. "Then it sounds like there's a major leak within the Preventers. That someone else is looking for the key pieces, and shows up at two of our best leads nearly as fast as us, is just far too unlikely to be just a mere coincidence." 

Duo nodded. "Yeah, probably. Heero thought as much, too. He mentioned it to our contact back in Munich - I thought he was just growing a bit paranoid." 

She chuckled. "Growing?" 

Grin. "Anyway, we have to let Lady Une know ASAP. If we're compromised this badly, we'll have a lot more than a missing agent to worry about." 

"We can't do anything until we've freed Wufei - and didn't you say Lady Une went to L1?" 

Faint groan. "Right. Forgot about that." 

Smile. "Don't worry, Duo. We'll get through this just fine. The others can take care of themselves." 

"Like Wufei?" 

Smile fading, silence. 

"Sorry." 

Sally sighed. "No, that's okay." She paused, floored the gas pedal yet again, and sent the jeep off the side of the road - or, off the faint grooves that resembled a road - and up a flat hillside. The ride became just a tad bumpier. "What did Wufei's abductor do back on L2?" 

Duo shrugged. "Other than ask for Howard's stuff, I don't know. According to the clerk, he gave up after trying to offer a bribe." 

"Doesn't sound like they're a violent bunch, then - if they gave up on recovering that part of Ziegler's key that quickly, and didn't even consider breaking into the governmental storage facility to-" She paused, noticing Duo's sudden grin. Realization struck. "You didn't..." 

He turned to her, grin going from ear to ear. "Break in? Well, we _had_ to search through Howard's junk, and the clerk wasn't very cooperative, so..." He shrugged. 

Sally rolled her eyes, and sighed. "I thought Lady Une gave you a very clear message you were working for the Preventers now - that means playing by the rules, not making them up as you go along." 

Snicker. "Well, neither Heero nor I are known for following the rules. We just do what we have to." 

Sally minutely closed her eyes and shook her head, before putting the foot on the brake, jeep screeching to a halt close to the top of the hill. Duo nearly bumped his head in the windshield, but was saved by the slack seatbelt - just barely. "We're here." She put on the handbrake and killed the engine before getting out, immediately busy with unfastening the equipment crates and fuel cans. 

Duo followed after putting the photograph in the glove compartment, and did his best to stretch his aching back before lending a helping hand. Having acted as a fall guy - quite literally - for Heero back during their break-in, hadn't done it any good, nor had the fall from the air duct afterwards, or the rough landing at Munich, or flying the museum-worthy plane, or this latest drive. He hesitated to think what fate had in stored for his sore body next. 

"They're holding Wufei in a compound right on the other side of this hill. We'll set up an observation post here, monitor the base for a while, and plot the best strategy for getting him out of there. It'd be nice to know just where his cell is before we attempt any rescue attempt, don't you agree?" 

Duo grinned, nodding in agreement. "Yeah - but first things first!" 

And with that, he fetched his bag, and dug out a fairly squashed piece of wax paper. He unwrapped it, and was rewarded with a bruised and beaten ham sandwich - the fact it was disintegrating between his fingers didn't stop him from getting every crumb of it in his mouth. 

Smile fading to sigh. "How can you be so indifferent, Duo? Wufei could be-" 

"Hm?" He swallowed a mouthful. "Look, we don't know anything about Wufei's condition right now, but thinking the worst isn't going to help at all. For all we know, he could have busted out already. He's a pretty resourceful guy, after all." He shrugged, grinning. "At least when he has made up his mind about which side he belongs to." 

Sally opened one of the two wooden crates, and fetched out a set of binoculars, throwing one to Duo, who caught it with one hand, the other curling the wax paper into a ball promptly discarded inside his bag. Sally gave him an odd look. 

He grinned in defense. "Hey, you said we had to play by the rules - 'keep the planet clean', and all that stuff, right?" 

She couldn't help but smirk. She picked up a camera, a sniper rifle and a few other items from the equipment box, and trotted up the remaining hillside, crouching as she got closer to the top. A small crevice in the rocks there would serve as a decent hiding spot. Duo followed, and soon they were both busy monitoring the facility, attempting to determine how many guards there were, their level of alertness, perimeter defenses, and patrol routines, in addition to making guesses to where inside the small building mass they might be keeping Wufei. Only one thing was certain; their friend was not to be held captive for long. 

* * *

  


-end First Realignment-   
-TBC- 

  
  



	7. Libra

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
Libra

AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue. Thanks to nayloushka_9 for beta-reading.   
  
Err, looks like we let Wufei wait a bit longer than expected. Ooops? :-) 

* * *

  


The first thing Wufei heard upon waking up, was his own relaxed breathing. His mind was still a blur as other sensations crept in on him, like the stale, dry air, the soft matter his right hand was buried in, and how his left was dangling downwards in mid-air. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, adjusting to the dim light, and as his vision cleared he saw a metal chain right before him, taut from the concrete wall on his right to the far corner of the wooden bench he was stretched out across. The dark wood was covered in something white and fluffy. It took him a few dazed seconds to realize it was a sheepskin. 

_Sheep. Ram. That damned beast!_ Memories of what had happened came back to him - as did a mild headache. Wufei winced, took a deep breath to clear his mind, and slowly got himself upright. He took in the gray walls around him, quickly concluding he was in a cell. He stretched a bit and tried to assess if he'd gotten any serious injuries in the brief ram-ride or consequent tumble down the hillside. His white coat and pants had been thoroughly smudged, torn in several places. He could feel several bruises, a few small scratches, but nothing serious. He remembered the dart that had struck his neck, and immediately searched out the point of impact with his fingers, finding just a faint, tiny bump of a wound, barely more noticeable than a needle mark. He couldn't sense any pain from that, at least - unlike the rest of his battered body. 

He looked around to confirm he was alone. All the walls were of concrete, and there was only one exit, a steel door with a small barred opening in it, metal-plate shutter on the other side closed. No windows. He spotted an airduct above him, but it was much too small to even consider crawling through. The draft through it was minimal; most likely the vent system was out of order. Other than the bench he sat on, there wasn't much in the way of furniture in the cell. There was a sink over by the door and some buckets tucked away underneath it. The three unshaded light-bulbs dangling from the ceiling had no shades, but their light was so dim it hardly mattered. 

His first thought was that his captors had underestimated him. They had left him in a cell, yes - but his hands and feet were free, and the room contained more than one item he could exploit. The bench he was sitting on could be splintered into crude wooden spears or clubs, the metal chain might become a makeshift nunchaku, if it held on to parts of the wood and concrete. The three unshaded lightbulbs dangling in their wiring from the roof could be fashioned into an electroshock device with limited range, useful provided he could tear down enough of the wiring and stretch it to the door without getting a jolt of his own. The empty buckets next to the sink were possible projectile weapons, and the sink itself- Wufei smirked, and shook his head. Yes, there was enough here to work with to make a tiny, primitive arsenal, since he was unbound. Maybe he could find a way to escape - though the only visible way was out the door. He might be able to tackle a few guards coming to check up on him, but once past that obstacle, what other challenges awaited? Was this part of a huge complex? Was he deep underground? The lack of windows and heavy use of concrete suggested he wasn't at the top of a skyscraper, at least. It was unlikely they had taken him to a colony - and if they had, the walls would probably have been made of metal, not thick concrete. He tapped the wall behind him, dull, flat sound confirming the thickness of the wall. He scratched the plan of finding a spoon to dig out with. 

How long had he been out, anyway? He winced again, as the last effects of the tranquilizer injection wore off, making the pain just a little more noticeable. Another quick scan confirmed there were no security cameras in the cell, and there didn't appear to be any microphones either. It was highly probable his captors would come by on an inspection soon, though. Wufei discarded his white coat. It had become uncomfortable in the warm cell, and it was torn in so many places it would do little good as anything but rags in the future. Again he entertained the thought of preparing for an escape, but decided not to - not until he had a fair idea of where he was, and what they wanted from him. In a hazed memory, he recalled the old man saying something about simply wanting to talk. Wufei snorted. That didn't seem very likely, since they went through the trouble of kidnapping him. 

All in all, it left him with pretty much one option; waiting. He stood up, stretched, and took one of the sheepskins from the bench, put it on the concrete floor and sat down, legs crossed. For a while, he tried meditation, but restlessness returned. After pacing back and forth across the cell a few times, he climbed up on the bench to study the airduct. There was a very faint drift of air, but nothing that indicated it was more than draft operating beyond the bars. 

If this draft came from the outside, it was unlikely he was still at Corsica. The air seemed much too dry, and there was nothing salty about it at all. How long had he been out? He looked at his arms, trying to estimate how advanced his bruises were. He reached for his chin, trying to sense stubs. A day, perhaps. Maybe two. That meant he could be just about anywhere - but given the materials in the cell, he was still on Earth. Wufei ripped a small part of his shredded coat off and walked over to the sink. After clogging the drain with the cloth, he turned the water on. He let the sink fill to about half, then turned the water off, and removed the cloth. The water began draining, forming a whirl as it did so, rotating counter-clockwise at a mediocre pace. Satisfied with the result by testing the Coriolis effect, Wufei could verify he was still on the northern hemisphere given the direction the water spun, and most likely not brought much further north nor south than Corsica's latitude, given the speed of the whirlpool. That still left a pretty large area, though the air narrowed it down a bit further - if that could be trusted. 

For a moment, he considered other investigations he could make to determine where he might be, just to keep his mind going. Perhaps he could study the electrical system for clues, or test the water somehow, or check the type of wood the bench was made out of. The bars in the door and in the airduct had some rust, so this place probably hadn't been maintained for a while. Further thoughts along these lines kept coming, but in the end he discarded all of them, opting to sit down again, and wait. 

It didn't take long, however. He was torn from his meditation by the sound of the metal shutter in the door sliding open, and a pair of eager eyes wrapped in thin wrinkles and round glasses met him through the bars. 

"Ah, I see you are awake. My apologies for the inconvenience, Agent Chang, but I really must speak with you undisturbed. As you can see, there is little to take away from your full attention here." 

The man had the audacity to smirk. Wufei frowned back, minutely clutching his fists. 

The man twirled the tip of his trimmed, white moustache, and continued to speak in his peculiar British accent. "Now, I give you my word that as soon as we have chatted a bit, you'll be free to leave. We can take you to the nearest airfield, if you wish. I do have to insist, however, that you do not attempt to escape, or try to assault me when I open this door. I assure you, both would be folly. Do you agree to talk? We mean you no harm, we only wish to discuss a few things." 

Wufei folded his arms and gave a curt nod, though he continued to glare at the old man. The shutter closed, and he could hear the door unlock. True to his promise, he didn't attack, but waited for the white-haired man to enter the cell, coat and hat gone, revealing a head full of white, a white shirt, red suspenders keeping the brown pants up, and the grimmest red-and-brown-patterned tie Wufei had ever seen. The bad dresser supported himself on his walking cane as he moved to sit on the bench. A big mountain of a man in some sort of dark uniform stood guard by the door, and Wufei could hear it close and lock behind the big guy, leaving the three momentarily trapped in the cell. He refocused on the old man, though he remained sitting cross-legged on the sheepskin he had removed from the bench. 

Putting the cane aside, the man sat down on the remaining sheepskin, and let loose a sigh. "Ah... That's better." He chuckled. "I guess I've overexerted myself lately - but we live in exciting times, do we not?" 

Wufei didn't answer, merely kept his frown, biding his time. 

"I'm not sure if you remember, but I did introduce myself earlier. My name is Berthrand Chauser, this is my assistant and friend, Hector Suente." Out of the corner of his eye, Wufei saw the brute nod. "Now, Agent Chang - as you may already have realized, we have a great interest in finding out about these little trinkets the Preventer Agency has begun searching for - we found one on your person, and we are keeping it, for now." 

Wufei smirked, briefly flared his nostrils. "If you think you can kidnap and rob a Preventer agent without consequences-" 

Chauser waved him off. "Agent Chang, we have no reason to be hostile to one another. Let me explain first. Is it not better to make up one's mind once one has _all_ valid information, rather than just parts of it?" 

Again, no answer, but Wufei returned to his slightly surly frown. 

"You have no doubt surmised that my friends and I have eyes and ears within the Preventers - that is how this whole affair came to my attention. Isn't it intriguing how your past can come visiting when you least expect it?" He grinned. "I intend to tell you a few stories, and I expect you to tell me a few things in return. Do you think that would be a problem?" 

Wufei paused for a moment, then shook his head. 

"Good. Agent Chang-" 

"Call me Wufei." 

The old man brightened. "Ah, thank you, young man. I shall. Wufei, why are the Preventers interested in Ziegler's legacy?" 

"Legacy?" 

Chauser smirked. "You know what I'm talking about." 

Again, Wufei hesitated. Divulging information was not proper - but this man appeared to know most of it, already. "Our reason for getting the key is to gain access to the mountain vault. We then want to find the passageways to the explosives caches surrounding the factory complex. Most likely, the facility will be demolished after that." 

Chauser nodded, and reached into a pocket and pulled out a brown, crooked pipe, a packet of tobacco and a small plastic pocket containing matches. He stuffed the pipe, and prepared to light the contraption. "Oh, forgive me - you don't mind, do you?" 

Wufei shook his head. 

"Ah, good." The old man lit up - both in expression and pipe - and began puffing away. "We all have our little vices. This is one of mine, I fear. Fortunately, I've suffered little for it, so far." Another puff. "Now, where was I? Oh, the old skunkworks facility. I take it you don't know my name from the sweeps of files the Preventers have made?" 

"I didn't help with the paperwork." 

Chauser formed a small ring of smoke puff. "I see. Well, I'm sure you will read up on me when you return, safe and sound. I used to work there, along with Herbert Ziegler. I was a lawyer slash accountant back then, mostly going where Romefeller sent funds, keeping records and drafting documents and contracts. In those days, the skunkworks was by far our greatest investment, given how badly we wanted to gain a monopoly over the arms industry feeding the Alliance military. Ziegler was a decent man, devoted to his work, and a fairly apt engineer - though he didn't have the skills to design what we wanted from scratch. We helped him with staff, materials, building permits, all the necessary documents to keep this as secret as we could... In truth, we knew we couldn't keep it secret at all, in the long run. Too many people involved. The skunkworks was set up in what was mainly a natural cave, so that we didn't have to hire too many construction workers. The Alliance contractors built many secret installations, so I'm sure their memories of this specific one are hazy at best. The people who came to work there, on the other hand..." He chuckled, again returning to his pipe. 

Wufei used the brief pause to shoot a glance at the mountain-of-a-man Suente still standing patiently by the door. Suente glared back, leant back against the doorframe, and folded his arms. Chauser's voice made him refocus. 

"I'm sure you know that skunkworks was the birthplace of the mobile suits - including the Gundams, which I understand you piloted one of. Most impressive machines, those." He paused to exhale a series of small clouds of smoke. "Anyway, when all was said and done, and the team broken apart by desertions, dismissals and relocations, Herbert remained in the mountain for nearly three years, working on a few more projects. I, representing Romefeller's interests, backed up all of them, though only a handful were ordered by us, mostly minor modifications to the versatile Leo design. The remainder of projects Herbert refused to disclose, but he assured me of their usefulness. I had never known the man to be deceptive, so I kept recommending the financial committee of Romefeller to continue funding him. He never divulged anything about his unofficial projects, and in those last few years, he was virtually the only one to set foot in the complex, giving him significant privacy. While he used the skunkworks facility to design and make quick models and mock-ups, he had to go to the Leo factory we built nearby to prototype his design changes, something he was not happy about. Whatever he did in that lab of his, he didn't like leaving it behind, even for a moment. That's when he began tinkering on a new locking mechanism - which you are familiar with." 

Wufei nodded. "So, you don't know what the mountain contains either..." 

Chauser tapped his pipe to remove some of the ashes. "At present? I'm afraid not, young man." 

"What about the nuclear waste barrels?" 

The old man shrugged. "I can assure you that is not part of standard Alliance construction plans, nor OZ or Romefeller regulations. I suspect Herbert installed them during those three years, though I do not know for what purpose. Herbert never did anything without good reason, though. The man was far from impulsive, despite how he acted the last few times I saw him." 

"And when would that be?" 

Chauser grinned. "So, you are set on interrogating _me_, Wufei?" He chuckled. "Very well, I'll play along, for now. When Romefeller finally had had enough with the vast amounts of funding they sent his way, only to get little to nothing in return, they cut Herbert off completely, despite my protests. Over the years, he had become somewhat of a friend of mine, and I suspect that is precisely why my superiors refused to listen to my objections. They ordered the skunkworks closed and sealed up once and for all, and got me to convince Herbert to do so. He was furious, but complied. Herbert showed me the key he had been working on, and brought me to the skunkworks to witness the sealing of the vault. We never went inside. Stupidly, I presumed he didn't have anything of value in there anymore. Now I find myself far from certain of that." The man paused to sigh, grin fading away. "After we hid the control panel as best we could, he broke apart one of the pieces of the key and offered it to me, asking me to hold on to it for the time being. I thought he did that to reassure me the vault was sealed, given that you needed the entire circle to unlock and open the doors. A few days later, some of the workers at the Leo factory nearby informed me Herbert had been distributing more of these pieces, all to people who had worked at the skunkworks at one time or another, most of which were his most trusted employees. Puzzled, I wanted to confront Herbert about it, only to find out he had taken off to L3. I decided to follow." 

Wufei nodded. "Preventer records has that as the last official trace of Ziegler. What happened on L3?" 

Another shrug. Chauser emptied the pipe, and placed it next to the matches and tobacco packet resting beside him on the bench. "I found him in a bar, staring into a full glass of whiskey. We had a few heated exchanges, mostly me trying to find out why he had made the trek to L3. Herbert was in a remarkably cheerful mood that night - normally, he had a very grouchy air to him. Another unusual thing was that he wore his full Romefeller regalia - he was an honorary member, but loathed the dress code. Our argument was interrupted when someone asked us to join in on a game of poker. Before I had a chance to decline, Herbert agreed. We played, and lost. Herbert even placed his last key piece in the pool - and lost it. Again, he just shrugged it off, laughed as if he hadn't just played away something immensely valuable to him. He was acting so peculiar I began wondering if he was having a mental breakdown. I dragged him along to the nearest Romefeller chapter, and got a few fellow members to look after him for a while - I got called back to Earth on some urgent negotiations regarding Alliance armament contracts. When I had the chance to return, Herbert was gone. They said he had just slipped out the door one night, without them noticing. I asked if he'd told them anything, but was informed he had either been reading in the clubhouse library, or sleeping in one of the guest quarters. He never spoke to anyone, nor did he leave a message of any kind." 

"And you never saw him again?" 

Sigh. "No. I searched, but found no traces of him. At first, I assumed he only wanted some time alone, but as weeks, months, even years passed... Well, I pretty much wrote him off. I doubt he got into an accident, or fell victim to a crime, but you never know. As Herbert, the vault slipped my mind. Being a liaison between the Alliance and Romefeller kept me occupied. It wasn't until my retirement some time ago, that I finally had time to look back at such matters. Even after two decades, I still had some hope of discovering what happened to Herbert. With the colonies included in the ESUN, I was hoping to get more cooperation from the colonists in the search. In addition to that, I also reviewed my financial and logistic reports on Herbert's research, and found vast discrepancies in them - which I already knew about, of course - they were a result of the secret projects. It made me wonder just what he had been working on, during those last years. He never brought anything out, not even blueprints, so whatever it was had to still be there. Over the years, I had gotten many contacts, and I called in a few favors, hoping to enlist the Preventers to make the investigation easier. Imagine my surprise when I was informed a search for Ziegler and his secrets was already underway." Chauser grinned, and twirled one tip of his moustache. 

Wufei folded his arms, taking a moment to shoot another glare at Suente, whom appeared to grow restless, occasionally glancing at the door. "If all you want is to know what happened to Ziegler, and what's hidden in the vault, why am I here? You could just have waited for us to find the entire key and unlock the vault, and maybe find out what happened to Ziegler - by your own admission, you have enough 'friends' within the Preventers to find that out." 

Chauser nodded. "You are correct, of course. Yes, I could have done that. I chose not to. First of all, finding Herbert is not the principle agenda of the Preventers, is it? In addition, I suppose your agency would have destroyed all that might remain of his research before it was properly investigated, just to decommission the skunkworks facility once and for all, and free up Preventer resources." He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, I couldn't allow that to happen. Plus, I have a sincere wish to investigate Herbert's secrets for myself. At first, I considered finding all the key tokens myself, but my resources are somewhat limited when compared to your agency. I ran into some trouble trying to track down one piece, and came upon a boundary I could not cross. Frustrated, I found a bench to sit on, and began thinking of alternatives. One was of course to let you and your fellow agents find eleven of the pieces, and simply steal those when you came searching for the twelfth - but that was out of the question, for several reasons. Cooperating whole-heartedly with the Preventers, and hope to get what I wanted that way, was another option, but I found that lacking too. When my assistant here informed me you and Agent Po were heading for Corsica, I made up my mind - which brings us... well, here." 

Suente looked at his wristwatch before interrupting. "Judge Chauser, we're running out of time. You really should-" 

Chauser frowned at him, upset at the notification, before waving it all away. "Yes, yes, yes - we'll be done in a moment." 

Suente's words gave Wufei a mental edge. If his captors were on a strict timetable, all he had to do was continue this mindless chatter, indefinitely. The old man appeared loose-lipped enough. "Judge?" 

Nod. "Yes, young man. Believe it or not, I am a judge. When Romefeller took control through OZ, they needed a few more of what they considered 'loyal elements' within the judicial system. Given my life-long membership, relatively spotless record and career track, I was granted an appointment - mostly settling disputes over corporate law, of course." 

"You said you had one of the tokens. Which-" 

With another nod, Chauser went for his left shirt pocket, picked out something small and gilded, and tossed it to Wufei, who grabbed it in one sweeping motion. He flipped it over, and studied the engraved image; a pair of scales - Libra. 

"May I have it back, please?" 

Wufei looked up, and tossed it back, surprised to see Chauser catch it with far more a smooth motion than he thought a geriatric with a cane could muster. 

Chauser tucked it away again. "Thank you. Now, down to business. I've already told you I want to find Herbert, and if failing that, get his unaccounted-for research. Romefeller funded it, so the foundation has somewhat of a claim on it - though I feel I have an obligation to investigate it first. After the sealing of the skunkworks, I was somewhat shunned within Romefeller for nearly a decade. The whole affair smudged my name quite significantly, and it took time to repair the damage. Odd, how they frowned upon using friendships to further your own cause, as Herbert had done, when it remains the most common business practice within the foundation to this day." He grinned. 

Grunt. "We can't offer you anything that might be in the vault, you know that. If it is some kind of weapon, which isn't all that unlikely-" 

The old man's forehead grew a second set of furrows, as he cut in. "Do you believe in balance, Wufei?" 

Taken a bit aback, Wufei momentarily hesitated. "Balance?" 

"Yes. An even scale, yin-yang, symmetry, good and evil, war and peace - or however you wish to describe it - do you believe in it?" 

Chauser awaited a reply, but got none. 

"Well, I do. Fairness is one thing, balance another - but where is the fairness in only having one group of real power? Once, it was the Alliance, then OZ, and so on. Now, the only real power left is the Preventer agency. It is the only organization allowed to remain partly militarized, with a very few exceptions. What is to prevent the Preventers from using whatever might be in the vault to further their own power? With Lady- _Colonel_ Une at the helm, I'm sure you can understand my concern. For all her recent demonstrations of political savvy and management skills, her track record is anything but spotless." 

Wufei frowned. Une was many things - but also his commanding officer. Disrespecting her was disrespecting him. "She doesn't control the Preventers in a military fashion. The command structure ends with the ESUN President, not her. Plus, she purposefully keeps those who dare disagree with her close, so she won't make mistakes, or be thought to hold the office just for power. Even on the odd chance the entire agency wanted to support her in a military coup, the people of the ESUN would not tolerate it. They would fight - to be left alone, if nothing else." 

Chauser nodded in agreement, and put the pipe, matches and tobacco packet back in their respective pockets. "Perhaps. I'm one of the concerned citizens of the ESUN, however. I'm worried these weapons - if there are any - would fall into the wrong hands - Preventer hands. There is no organization to balance up against the Preventer agency, and-" 

"And you wish to form one? Or re-arm the Romefeller Foundation?" 

The white moustache ruffled as its owner snorted at the very idea. "I have no interest in aiding Romefeller, whatsoever. I have had to fight them as much as others, over the years. The thought of forming a group on my own is interesting, of course - but I don't wish for power. Like I said, I wish for balance." 

"But there already _is_ balance. I told you-" 

Chauser nodded, shot a glance over at Suente, who tapped his wristwatch. "Yes, I remember. Look, young man - Whatever Herbert was working on, I fear it was something so potent it should not fall into the hands of any one power group, including the Preventers. I do not trust the Preventers in disposing of it any more than I would trust Romefeller - or any other group to, for that matter. Herbert split the key up, giving eleven of the pieces to people he trusted, and I can only presume that he did so for a good reason." 

"But he gambled away his own piece." 

Momentarily closed eyes, deep breath. "True. That worries me even more. He knew he would be tied to the facility, as would all the people who had worked there. Perhaps he wanted the last piece to be in the hands of someone untraceable, even to him. If anything, it made the sealing of the vault final." 

Over by the door, Suente grew ever more restless. "Judge Chauser, we _really_ have-" 

"Yes, Hector, I know. Wufei - we will release you now, but first I will offer you a proposal. You never answered me if you believed in balance or not, but I think you do. I also think you believe in fair play, justice and order, much like myself. Of course, few things in life are fair, and we would undoubtedly be upset if the world was _truly_ fair. Chaos is part of existence, and poor Justitia is as blind as ever. So is luck, which brings us to my suggestion." 

Wufei smirked. "You wish to gamble the rights to access the vault?" 

"Don't be preposterous. No, what I suggest is a friendly contest. Me, my limited resources, connections and few friends pitted against the vast power of the Preventer agency, racing to get the most of the pieces of the key. Once one of us has the majority of pieces - at least seven - the other side will hand over the ones they have voluntarily. The side that gets the key, holds the rights to Ziegler's legacy, whatever it might or might not be. Of course, we can have no foul play. First one to find the key, holds it until the scale is tipped in favor of one side. If one group arrives a few minutes, or even seconds too late, the key is to be considered lost. We will not steal keys from each other, nor hinder the opposition. It would be a race." 

Wufei found himself unable to hold back a short laugh. "You are out of your mind. Why should I trust a word you say? You drugged me, kidnapped me, and are keeping me captive. Why-" 

"Young man, I regret having done all those things, but it seemed the quickest way of getting my point through. From the personnel files I've obtained from the Preventer archives, you appeared the most likely candidate _not_ to dismiss my proposal. Unfortunately, you also appeared to be the _most_ likely to resist even a friendly discussion. Therefore, we found it necessary to bring you somewhere where we could speak unhindered, and with your full attention." He glanced over at Suente. "As my assistant here keeps reminding me, we are on a tight schedule. We also had to bring you far enough away from Corsica to ensure we would have enough time to discuss my suggestion. Preventer protocol states all agents are to travel in teams, when possible - and especially in operations of a military nature. I surmised your partner would follow us - and she did, given the reports we got from friends in Damascus. However, Agent Po appears to follow Preventer guidelines a bit more strictly than even you, so we assumed she would not act alone in attempting to free you from us. It would take some time to get more Preventer agents here, and by monitoring the switchboard back at your headquarters, we have been tracking the progress of other agents. As we speak, they are no doubt approaching this compound, if they aren't already here." 

"Then it's over. You've lost, and you know it." 

Chauser smirked. "Why, we haven't even played yet, Wufei. As you might understand, any harm to my person, or to my friends, could create quite a bit of disruption within the Preventer agency, and other areas of government. Having formed friendships in unlikely places for nearly five decades, I can create quite a bit of trouble, even if dead. I have no interest in doing so, of course, but I can." Chauser reached for his cane, and struggled to stand up, waving off Suente as the big man took a step closer, offering to help. "Inform Lady Une I'll withdraw all my connections within the Preventers, or simply leave them be. Some are mere passive sources of information, they did not know who they were helping, or even that they were helping in the first place. Also, I'll have to keep the Aries token, so that both our groups start with two. Neither side will play dirty - I apologize for bringing you here, Wufei, but it was the most efficient way of getting it done. I can understand if you or your fellow agents do not wish to trust me, but my offer is more than fair, is it not? If we violate the rules, you may approach us as you would any organization you judge dangerous, of course - but until we do, we remain a peaceful faction." 

"I already told you - the Preventers can't allow any contents of the vault to fall into the hands of others." 

"Ah, so you admit your vast agency could lose to an elderly man and a small set of his friends?" 

Wufei gritted his teeth, loathing the idea of passing up such an insult. Of _course_ he trusted his friends to win such a stupid bet, but the minuscule risk of losing it all was still too great - not to mention, it wasn't his call to make. 

"If my side should turn victorious, we will of course help in dismantling the bombs and the facility in general, as soon as we have examined the vault for Herbert's research. You would have to allow us to keep what we might find, though. If the Preventers finds the most pieces, we will hand over any we might have found - though I do have one request, in that event." 

"Which is?" 

"That I and Hector here be allowed to witness the opening of the vault. We wish to find out what Ziegler's legacy might be, even if we cannot exploit it in any way. We would be mere observers, we would not interfere in your work, should you choose to destroy your finds." 

Chauser began walking towards the door, and Suente tapped the metal twice. The shutter flew open, and the guard on the outside unlocked and opened the door. Under Suente's watchful eye, Wufei got to his feet. "I can't give you any promises the Preventers will agree to your wager." 

The old man looked over his shoulder. "I understand. We will keep our side of the deal, though. If we should gain seven or more of the pieces, or discover you have done so, we will contact your agency again. If we are victorious, and you do not hand over the pieces, however, I might have to resort to other means to gain the full key." He continued out the door. "I would really rather not have to, though." 

Suente cautioned Wufei to follow Chauser with a nod. Wufei complied, well aware the assistant was highly alert. No doubt, Wufei could take him down, but given what he had been told - if it was true - there was no need. He opted to bide his time once more. 

The little group went through a small series of corridors, several metal doors on either side. Dust, rust and cobwebs permeated the place, and many of the lights along the corridors were out, some of the few still working blinked in spasms, way out of sync. The recently made path in the old dust led them to a staircase, taking them up a floor. Wufei reasoned he'd been right in guessing he had been kept underground. The slow procession went down another hallway, metal giving way to wooden doors, some of the old, rusty nameplates about to come off their hinges and screws, others already resting in the dust of the floor. "Just what is this place?" 

Chauser glanced over his shoulder, but didn't stop walking. "It used to be a detention center for the Alliance. During OZ' rule, it was abandoned, judged much to antiquated to use for interrogation and safe-keeping of people potentially dangerous to OZ. It was scheduled for demolition, but for some strange reason, OZ was kept far too busy rebuilding other structures to take the time to tear this one down." The old man smirked; one could be forgiven for thinking he was gleeful for OZ' troubles. 

Another corridor and a turn left, and Wufei could see sunlight. Once outside, he could see he had exited one of four buildings closed off by a perimeter wall. Over by the gate, two jeeps were covered in camouflage netting - though whoever had done it showcased a lack of skill for it. Wufei shaded his eyes with a hand, blinking to adjust to the bright sunlight. Once they were in the middle of the courtyard, Chauser stopped and turned, quick hand gesture ordering Suente and the other guard to back off. 

"Wufei, where we go from here, is up to you. If you wish, we will escort you to the nearest airfield. That is all I can offer, I'm afraid. Other than that, you're on your own. There should be a working vidphone at the airfield, though you may of course wait here for your friends, if that suits you better. I have no doubt they will be here shortly." A faint smile grew upon his face. "Though I dislike the near one-sided power the Preventers represent, I've learned not to underestimate its efficiency." He paused, waiting for some sort of response. None was forthcoming. Impatient, he tapped his cane to the ground. "So - Staying or going, young man?" 
    
    
    -------
    

From the hillside lookout, Sally and Duo had monitored the base for some time. There had been no visible activity whatsoever, and they had both grown somewhat restless. Even if there were only four buildings to sweep, a quiet commando raid would still take time, and be quite risky, as they didn't know if they'd meet only a geriatric and his aide, or a platoon of heavily armed troops. Sally had recognized the facility for what it was, but the state of it suggested it had been abandoned many years ago. Through binoculars, Sally's watchful eyes kept scanning the perimeter for any signs of life whatsoever. Lying next to her was Duo, busy assembling a sniper rifle. He began twisting the long barrel into place. "Seen anything yet?" 

Sally put the binoculars down. "Not yet. I don't think they have left - the jeeps are still here, and there's nothing to suggest they walked away, or were picked up by someone else. The ground is nearly undisturbed, and the main gate of the compound is at the same angle it was when I left to pick you up." 

Duo reached into the rifle case, picked up the telescopic sight and snapped it into place. "You're probably right. Still can't understand why they'd take him here, though. Either they're incredibly stupid, thinking this abandoned place would be enough to hold a Preventer agent captive, or secure from rescue attempts, or they're really, really arrogant, thinking the same." He paused, got the loading bolt from the rifle case, and pushed it into position, closed the breech and opened it again, before searching the rifle case for cartridges. "Or... he could have joined up with them, for some reason." 

An angry glare met him. "Wufei wouldn't do that, Duo. Not now." 

"Okay, maybe you're right." Duo loaded the rifle, and repositioned himself, sweeping the perimeter of the compound through the telescopic sight. "Wufei isn't the kind who does something for no good reason. Impulsive isn't really a word - hey, what's that?" 

"What?" 

"Over by the western wall, inside the complex. I think I see smoke." 

Sally began following the wall through her binoculars, zooming in as she scanned the concrete wall. "I don't see anything." 

"Look about three quarters up towards the northern side, behind the low building." 

She did, and she spotted a few faint puffs of gray - much too little to be a fire, barely enough to be noticed. "Maybe there's a window, or an airduct, or some other opening behind that building. In any case, it's a sign of life." 

Duo put down the rifle, wide grin plastered across his face. "Well, that narrows it down from four buildings to one. Lovely lady, shall we dance?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a most mischievous manner. 

Sally sighed into a smile. "Thank you, good sir, but I think we have to study the ballroom a bit further first." 

A shrug. "Whatever you say, my dear. Should I crawl back to the car and get our dancing shoes ready, anyway?" 

Light chuckle. "Yeah, that'd be fine, Duo. Just don't start juggling with the grenades." 

Duo grinned, nodded, secured the sniper rifle, and headed back towards the jeep. Sally tried finding more signs of activity, but to no avail. The occasional puffs of smoke along the western side of the compound stopped too. The uneasiness returned. Though there was nothing to indicate Wufei had been brought here to be put through what the compound had once been famous for - interrogation and detention, maybe torture - the mere possibility of it was distressing. As Duo had pointed out, Wufei would probably try to escape, if given the chance. From the outside, the place looked almost abandoned, so what was it that kept Wufei from appearing? How many guards could be hiding inside? 

Duo returned, more or less plumping down next to Sally, startling her from thoughts. He placed a submachine gun at her side. The weapon was a very old design - but much like the old aircraft that had brought Duo here, it was a solid design. Good weapon designs live for quite a while - and even longer on the black markets. "So, what's the word? Any more signs of life down there?" 

"Not really." She picked up her binoculars again, swept the compound grounds again, back to the target building. "Hold on..." She saw a man appear, then another, and then- "I see Wufei." 

"Really?" Duo reached for his rifle, scanned the yard with his scope. "Yep, that's Wuffers alright. God, what did they do to him?! Look at his clothes!" 

Sally sighed, nodded. "Yeah, they're pretty torn apart - that doesn't mean it's their doing, though - maybe he put up a fight before he was captured. His coat wasn't in mint condition on the photo, either." 

"True - hey, what are they doing?" 

"Looks like they're talking." She spun the zoom dial. "The old man has his back turned, I can't read his lips from here." 

"The guards are backing away, I think..." 

"Yes... Wufei just said 'staying' - if I read his lips right." 

Down in the courtyard, the smaller guard went to unfasten the camouflage netting. The big one took up position next to the geriatric, both taking a few steps backwards, away from Wufei. Duo lowered his rifle. "Think they're leaving?" 

The guard packed away the netting in the rear jeep, and walked over to push the gates open. "Looks like..." 

As the man went back to the jeep, Duo readied his rifle again. "Well, we can't very well let them take Wufei away from here - if there's only three of them, one of them being that old guy, we shouldn't have a problem taking them on." 

Sally placed her hand on the barrel, lowering it. "Duo, remember Preventer protocol. We don't kill, unless forced to." 

Soft grunt. "Hey, I wasn't going to aim at the driver - I have _some_ scruples, you know. I was going for the wheels. Give them a flat tire or three just as they drive through the gate, and they'll stay put. I'm not going to let-" 

Sally held up her index finger, silencing him with the gesture. "Look, Duo - I don't think Wufei is going with them..." 

In the compound, Chauser and Suente had gotten into the other jeep, and soon drove out the gate and to the right, the other guard following them. Wufei remained standing in the courtyard, coughing a little on the dust the vehicles whirled up, before trotting over to the open gate. He looked to the right, after the cars, then to the left. Then, he began scanning the horizon, freezing just as he looked straight at them. Duo quickly secured his weapon, and put it down, grinning. "I think Wuffers spotted us." 

Indeed, he had. The young man was walking up the hillside, slowed only by his complaining body. Sally and Duo stood up. 

"Hey, Wuffers - what's going on?" 

Struggling to climb the loose gravel hillside, Wufei was not in a good mood; nicknames didn't make it any better. "For the last time - it's _Wufei_," he growled. "I'm having a bad enough day as it is, Duo - I _really_ don't need you to add insult to injury." 

Laughter. "Good old Wuffers." 

Another growl, more determined slope climbing. "That's it, when I reach the top, I'm going to-" 

Duo snickered, grabbed the submachine gun and the rifle, and retreated to the jeep. 

When Wufei had almost reached the top, Sally reached out a hand for him, helped him up the last stretch, put his arm around her shoulders to support him. "Welcome back, Wufei." 

Wufei struggled to catch his breath. "Thanks." 

"Now, would you please tell us what happened? Why did they just let you stay like that? We thought you were kidnapped." 

He nodded. "I was, I-" He looked down, saw Duo by the jeep, disassembling and stowing away their armory. "Is that your vehicle?" 

Sally nodded, still supporting Wufei. "Yes, why?" 

Wufei coughed again, cleared his throat. "I suggest we get out of here - I'll tell you everything on the way back." He blinked a bit, looked around. "Where the hell are we, anyway?" 

"Somewhere between Beirut, Damascus and Hims." 

"Oh..." 

She smiled. "Glad to have you back, Wufei." 

"Good to be back." Smirk. "I'll feel even better when we get back to headquarters. I have a message to deliver." 

Sally gave him a puzzled look, but said nothing. The two stumbled down towards the car, Duo meeting them halfway to help. 
    
    
    -------
    

Though Sally took it easier on the throttle on the way back, it didn't diminish Duo's firm grip of the roll bar. With the freed captive occupying the passenger seat, he was left sitting on the gas cans, white knuckles clutching the rollbar, just in case Sally were to go off on wheelies again. "So," he yelled over the engine noise, "You're saying the old guy issued a challenge?" 

"Something like that, yeah." 

Chuckle. "Beats me why he'd do that - he has to _know_ he can't win..." 

Vague snort. "I don't think he intends to. Chauser just wants to be there when we open the vault." 

"Maybe - at least we know the Aries piece wasn't destroyed. That's good news." 

Wufei nodded. 

The vehicle went over another hill, and the little airfield became visible. Sally stopped next to the runway. "Okay, you two get back to Preventer HQ as fast as you can - and only speak with people you trust. If this Chauser has moles in the Preventers, we have to make sure we avoid them. The switchboard just isn't safe enough." 

Wufei unfastened his seatbelt. "What about you?" 

"I have to return this jeep to Damascus, and ditch the weapons." Smile. "Wouldn't be proper for a Preventer agent to be caught with a bunch of illegal weapons in a stolen jeep, would it?" 

"Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?" 

Gentle laughter. "You're one to talk, Wufei - don't worry, I'll be back ASAP. You two concentrate on beating me back to HQ." He was halfway out the car when she gave him a soft slap to the bum. "Off you go, messenger boy." 

He jumped out of the car, glared back at her, got a smirk in reply as she floored the gas pedal, launching the old vehicle on another wild ride over the gravel, leaving the two boys in her wake of dust, coughing. 

Duo grinned. "Gee, Wuffers - you sure know how to pick them." 

Another glare. "You told her, didn't you?" 

Feigned surprise. "Told who what?" 

"You know damn well what I'm talking about - remember when I visited you a while back?" 

Faint grin. "Yeah, I remember - and no, I didn't tell her anything." 

Frown. 

Duo waved a hand defensively. "Hey, I told you back then I wouldn't tell anyone - and I haven't. You needed someone to confide in, and I accepted the job." Arms akimbo, mild frown. "I do have standards, you know. I keep my word." 

Grunt, low mumble. "Yeah... Sorry." 

Shrug. "Don't worry about it - now, let's head home, shall we?" Duo picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Oh, and remind me to call Hilde as soon as we get back to HQ - the line here would probably just break up, anyway." 

Beginnings of a smirk. "Sounds like you have your own troubles." 

Snicker. "Says the kept man." 

Throbbing veins in forehead. "I'm not a-" 

Grin. "Whatever you say, Wuffers." He began running, an angry Wufei hot on his heels, seeking satisfaction. 
    
    
    -------
    

A quick investigation revealed there was only one flight leaving the desolate airfield that day, namely the same rickety old aircraft Duo had arrived with, returning to Munich. Upon learning this, Duo had winced. Wufei did the same when he first saw the plane. 

"We're going to fly in _that_ piece of junk?" 

Shrug, grin, neck-scratch. "Well, it brought me here, safe and sound. I'm sure the old bird will keep together until we land in Munich." 

Frown. "I don't think I share your optimism..." 

"Well, she might not offer a maiden voyage, but I hear experience is a good thing." Snicker. "Come on, let's see if we can hitch a ride." 

With a sigh, Wufei nodded, and followed his hitchhiking guide, but couldn't quite keep up. His body was finally beginning to feel the bruises, protesting to every move he made. He stopped to rest in the middle of the tarmac, while Duo continued over to the pilots, exchanging quick words. Wufei comforted himself with the thought he'd at least have a chance to rest during the flight, and not think any more of the damn ram that had tossed him into this whole mess. He shook his head, determined not to dwell on the memory. 

The pilots went in through the rear hatch, and Duo came running back to him. "We just made it - they're about to take off. I bought us passage - Come on!" Duo grabbed Wufei's wrist, and more or less dragged him across the tarmac. The engines of the old aircraft sputtered to life, whirling up dust clouds. Duo let go of Wufei's wrist and tossed his bag inside the fuselage, before climbing up the detachable staircase. Once inside, he reached out a hand to help Wufei inside. Wufei accepted, and followed. 

Once inside, he dusted some of the particles that had stuck to his bare arms off. Behind him, Duo pulled up the staircase, put it aside and closed the hatch. "We have seats a bit further in. I _think_ they said they had two free seats..." 

Wufei gave a grunt in reply, looked at the stacks of crates placed along either side of the fuselage. With the hatch closed, the smell of the closed room became quite vivid, and not in a good way. He wrinkled his nose. "Just what are they carrying, anyway?" 

"I'm not sure - I think he said something about unprocessed sheepskins." 

Mighty groan. 

Duo grinned, finding some comfort in his friend's obvious _dis_comfort. At least he wasn't alone in hating having to fly with this thing back. "Hey, at least these ones are _dead_. I flew here with a bunch of really lively chicks. Was a real party, I tell ya." 

Wufei's face contorted from short-lived surprise to realization and a frown. "Thank you for _that_ lovely mental image..." 

Grin vanishing. "Hey, I meant _poultry_ chicks, okay? Geez..." Duo turned, walked up the fuselage to find himself a seat, and strap down for the bumpy ride. 

Wufei followed. "Sorry..." The engines roared again, and the plane started moving. "No, it's okay. Just get yourself a seat and tie yourself down. These guys don't bother with gentle take-offs, even with a _live_ cargo." 

Mild snort, but taking the advice. 

The aircraft turned, lined up at the end of the runway. The engines revved up. Wufei attached the last of the seat clips. 

Duo grinned at him. "Oh, one more thing - you wouldn't happen to have any nose plugs or gas masks handy?" 

Soft chuckle. "I'm afraid you'll just have to grin and bear it, Duo." 

Duo reached for his bag. "Says you - I think I've got..." He rummaged about in his bag, and pulled out a small plastic box filled with tiny yellow plugs, triumph all across his face. "I _knew_ I had these somewhere." He glanced at Wufei's questioning expression. "They're really earplugs for the gunnery range - but they'll do nicely, I think..." Duo stuffed a pair of the yellow contraptions up his nostrils, took a few tentative breaths to test if they stuck there - which they did - and then tried to dislodge them, wiggling his nose and exhaling through the nasal passage, ending up shooting the two across the fuselage, impacting next to Wufei. Another grin. "Sorry about that. Yeah, I'd say these would do the trick." He reached for another pair. 

The aircraft began moving, fast. The two were pushed to the side. Wufei grunted, nearly shouted to be heard over the engines. "I'm amazed the plugs didn't go the other way!" 

"Well, they didn't! Now you're the one who has to grin and bear it - the stench will only get worse, you know!" 

The wheels of the craft left the ground, and the fuselage shook, wobbled a bit, and after a while, most of the noise died down, allowing for nearly normal conversation volume. Wufei caught another sniff of death and decay. No doubt, Duo was right. He tried assessing if he could manage to breathe through his mouth only for the duration of the flight, and _not_ catch the smell. The conclusion was a negative. Even if he concentrated, he wouldn't be able to block the smell. "Hand me a pair of those, would you?" 

Smirk. "And what will you give me in return?" 

Wufei nearly grinned. "I won't vomit all over you in mid-flight." 

Laughter. "Fair enough." Duo tossed him the box. He flipped his baseball cap to cover his eyes. "Try to rest, Wufei. I'm sure we'll be plenty busy the second we land again. Might as well try to get some sleep." 

Wufei rolled his eyes, put the plugs in place, and tried to get comfortable. Who could possibly sleep in this noisy, shaking, rickety old fuselage, even with the smell of the cargo diminished? 

The answer made itself manifest in Duo's loud snoring an hour later. 

* * *

  


-end Libra-   
-TBC- 

  
  



	8. Virgo

  
**Zodiac, Full Circle**   
Virgo

AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue. Thanks to nayloushka_9 for beta-reading. 

* * *

The dark clouds hovering over Vienna did not hold back even a single one of the droplets they were carrying. They hurled them to the ground below with great zeal, and left nothing lacking cover dry. The rainfall had nearly emptied the streets. A feeling of gray permeated the view out of the window of the taxi cab. Quatre sighed, made sure he still had the umbrella and cheap raincoat he had bought at the spaceport, glad he took the advice to buy the items from the Preventer courier that had met him there. 

The cab made another turn, wheels splashing in the puddles gathering in the cobblestone streets. The courier had given a quick set of new instructions; meet Heero and a contact at a specified Vienna address, and search through the Romefeller archives for clues on Ziegler, his key, his research and his co-workers - some of whom might be in the possession of another piece of the key. 

The vehicle came to a halt, and the driver tapped the meter before extending his palm to Quatre. He didn't speak; didn't have to. The driver couldn't speak English anyway; Quatre had figured that much out when he tried stating where he wanted to go. Still, they got by. Cabdrivers tend to be very good at breaking language barriers; this one was no exception. He checked the meter reading, reached for his wallet and counted up the right sum, rounded upwards to the nearest bill. The driver reached for the spare change box, but Quatre waved him off. The driver grinned and clutched the bills. "Danke schön." 

Quatre smiled, nodded, readied his umbrella and stepped out of the cab. The wind had died down some, but the weather was still more than intense enough to soak both him and his backpack, if he wasn't careful. He shut the car door behind him, studied the building before him as the cab drove away. The iron gate was ajar, the only visible opening in the red brick wall surrounding the courtyard of the old museum. There was a small plaque by the gate; 'Ersach Museum, founded 3 AC.'. Another, much smaller plaque was below it, briefly stating the museum had roots far earlier than that, though the current building mass had been erected at the top date. 

Quatre stepped into the paved courtyard, careful to close the gate behind him. There was no lock. The paved yard was empty, short of two parked cars near the main entrance. Presumably, there was another gate on the far side of the museum - the one he had just come through, wasn't large enough for cars. He could make out a figure standing by the great oak door. Heero. The other looked up, mild frown all the greeting mustered. Unlike Quatre, Heero had no raincoat, nor an umbrella. His unbuttoned denim jacket was as soaked as his matching pants and traditional green tank top. Quatre's smile faded to concern as he hurried over. 

"Heero! You're going to catch a cold walking around like that." 

Grunt. "The doors were locked and our contact isn't here. None of the ledges here are wide enough to provide shelter from the rain, because of the wind." 

Quatre handed him his umbrella, put aside his backpack at an almost-dry spot close to the door, and began unbuttoning his raincoat. 

Raised brow. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm giving you my raincoat. It's not much, but it might warm you up a little." 

Uncomfortable with the idea, Heero frowned. "Quatre, I-" 

Smile. "It's okay, I can manage with just the umbrella. It isn't like we have to wait for much longer, is there? I thought I was going to be late..." 

Bluntness. "You are." 

Mild blush, sheepish grin. "Oh." 

Heero glared towards the gate. "Our contact was to show up more than thirty minutes ago. Had I known he'd be late, I wouldn't be in this state. I would have sought shelter - an overpass, or an open store - anything I could find." 

Quatre put the raincoat around Heero's shoulders, received the umbrella in return, moved to stand as close to the door as he could and pulled Heero closer. Thus, the umbrella above and Heero before him providing sufficient shelter from most of the rouge droplets at the mercy of the wind. "So, everything went fine at L2?" 

Shrug. "I guess. We didn't find the amulet, though. Hilde did." 

Puzzlement. "You mean Duo told her about-" 

"No. She doesn't know what this is all about, but she stumbled across a token while Duo and I were away looking for it." He clenched his teeth, fought a mild shiver. "I think someone else knows, though." 

"Oh? Who?" 

"I don't know yet..." Another shrug. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid." 

Quatre flagged a brow, not sure what to think. 

Heero half-smirked at him. "Someone tried to access Howard's belongings while we were up there. When I heard Wufei had vanished, that tiny event suddenly seemed much more important." 

Sigh into smile. "Maybe so... I'm sure we'll hear from Sally and Duo on Wufei's condition soon. Isn't it better to avoid jumping to conclusions?" 

Faint snort. "Probably..." 

Pause. Quatre looked toward the gate. The street beyond was quiet, except the uneven rainfall putting the storm drains to good use. He remembered a question or two Trowa had indirectly given him to ask Heero, and searched for the best way to phrase them. It might not be the best of times to ask questions, given that Heero might take flight rather than answer - and right now, his shelter was desired. Still... "Uhm... Heero?" 

"Hm?" 

"Uhm... Why did you visit Marshal Noventa's grave?" 

Heero's eyes momentarily widened in surprise, but he shaped that into an accusatory glare soon enough. "How did you know-" 

"A hunch, that's all," he lied, not very convincingly - but it didn't matter. He pressed on. "Heero, do you still blame yourself for-" 

Heero looked away, and might very well have turned and walked away, had not Quatre grabbed a hold of his shoulders. 

"You _do_, don't you? Heero..." 

Growl. "That's none of your business, Quatre." 

The frown transformed into resigned concern. "You're my friend. I'm _making_ it my business. Heero, you couldn't know that-" 

He made a half-hearted attempt to wrestle away, failing. "Look, I don't want-" 

Quatre tightened the grip of Heero's shoulder, twisting Heero back into line of sight. "It could have been anyone of us, Heero - it just happened to be you." He sighed, looked down. "It happened to be you..." 

Heero took a deep breath, rid himself of most of his anger that way, as well as his frown. "Yes, Quatre. It happened to be me. Therefore it's my problem, not yours - not Trowa's, not Duo's, not Wufei's. Mine. This is my burden to bear." 

"Heero, that's stupid, and you _know_ it. You've paid your penance already, several times over - we all have." 

Back to scowl. "Have we? We botched up the original Operation Meteor twice, but we still triggered two wars. If we'd simply self-destructed from the get-go, then-" 

"Then the Alliance would still be in power, or OZ and Romefeller would have had more trouble arranging their take-over, or the colonies would have built more Gundams, or something else entirely. Don't bother with 'what if' situations, Heero. They have no meaning." 

Angry grunt. "We still killed." 

Quatre hesitated, fearing a potential minefield ahead. "Yes..." He resumed eye contact. "Heero, we all have regrets - things we're not proud of. Do you think I don't have nightmares? I blew up whole _colonies_, Heero - do you have any idea-" Glare. Yes, of course he had. Quatre cut himself short there, sought another angle of attack. "It's the past, Heero. We have to work towards the future now. We only have the present in which to do things; we can't undo the past, or even bits of it." 

Nod. "Which is one reason I try to remember my mistakes. I don't want to make them again." 

Quatre opened his mouth to argue, but Heero gave him an even cooler glare, making it clear that particular conversation was over. He decided to let it go, for now. Sometimes, you had to give someone time and space to work things out on their own, or at least work them long enough to help them put together the pieces afterwards. 

Minutes in silence passed. Another gust of wind sent a fresh batch of droplets at them. Quatre held up an arm protectively, shirt sleeve growing damp. 

Heero gave a faint snort. "This is stupid - you should take the coat back. At this rate, we'll both get soaked." 

Amused, Quatre smiled. "No, this way either both of us get sick, or neither of us. If we catch a cold, we might as well endure it together, don't you think? Being sick alone is really boring. Better to have a friend with the same problem." 

Grunt, lopsided smirk. 

"Look, I'm only thinking of-" 

A third voice interrupted. "Of the best of others?" 

Startled, both boys turned to the new arrival, the young lady slowly approaching them, covered by a transparent umbrella and a great, golden raincoat. She was smirking under her bright forked brows. "Young master Winner, you can be so predictable, with your great compassion." She snickered. "Heero Yuy, Quatre Winner, my two favorite Gundam pilots - how can I help you on this _fine_ day?" She made a slight gesture towards the cloud cover. 

"Dorothy..." Heero flatly stated. "You're our contact?" 

Dorothy nodded. "Lady Une informed me the two of you needed to search the Romefeller archives, and asked me to assist you. Welcome to Ersach Museum, gentlemen - and more importantly, the wing of it holding what is left of the Romefeller archives." She collapsed her umbrella, fluttered it in the wind. "Shall we go inside? I can make us some warm tea - and by the looks of it, you two could use some." 

Quatre stepped aside, let Dorothy approach the door. She picked a key from a coat pocket, opened the door and led the boys inside. 

------- 

The great oak doors opened to a great, dark hallway. The main passage took a turn to the left some distance ahead. Dorothy led them through a narrow door on the right, into a small study, bookshelves along all four walls, with gaps only for three doors, a single window in the far wall, and the fireplace to their immediate left. Quatre asked permission to light it up, something Dorothy granted before heading out another door, into an anteroom serving as a tiny kitchen, going good on her promise to make tea. 

"Heero, you need to get out of those wet clothes - you'll catch a cold." 

Heero shrugged. "I don't get sick that easily." Even so, he took the denim jacket off, and put it over a stool next to the now lit fireplace. 

Quatre suppressed a chuckle, and dug around in his backpack, fishing out a towel. "Here, take this." He tossed it at Heero. 

Whom caught it, only to stare first at it, then at Quatre. 

Whom couldn't hold back the snicker any longer. "Go on - it's clean." 

Heero grunted, but nevertheless used it to dry his wet, unkempt hair at least some. He glanced over at the side door, and hastily removed his tank top as well, wringing it up to remove the worst of the water. He placed it next to the denim jacket, tried wringing that up a little too, before toweling himself as dry as he could. He handed the soaked towel back to Quatre. "Thanks," he muttered. 

Quatre hesitated at first, but then took the towel, spreading it out next to the stool. He chuckled. "You're welcome, Heero - oh, I'm sorry-" He went for his backpack again, and retrieved a white cotton T-shirt with a big yellow smiley on it. "Here." 

Now Heero really frowned, gaze of ice. 

Sunshine was over him, however, and he knew he'd soon lose. "Oh, come on... It's dry, you know." 

Thaw. Spring came early. 

Dorothy returned with a full tea tray just as Heero slipped the T-shirt on, the opposites of expressions now upon him, T-shirt hugging his still damp form, given that it was a size or two too small for him. She smirked, but didn't comment beyond that. That is, until she had put the tray away on the small coffee table opposite of the fireplace. "There's no need to be shy - feel free to wring up those pants of yours too, Yuy. Really, I wouldn't mind." 

The sour end of Heero's expression scale glared daggers at her. 

She was unfazed. "My, it was only a _suggestion_..." She gestured for the boys to take a seat, and poured up three cups of warm water from the kettle, offered a selection of tea bags and tiny crackers on a plate, playing good hostess. Heero declined by glare, Quatre sighed at him and accepted the offering. 

Dorothy dipped a bag in her water hurriedly before wringing it up around her spoon. Her eyes were fixed on Heero the whole time though, the two of them in an undeclared glaring contest. At last, she admitted forfeit and sampled her tea, before putting the cup aside. "So, gentlemen - why did Lady Une request I play librarian for you?" 

Quatre took a cautious sip of his own tea, satisfied with the taste. "While Romefeller has handed over copies of most documents, there are a few that the foundation has been reluctant, at best, in handing over. We need to check a few of those - membership records and any records of meetings or social gatherings arranged through the foundation, from present date and back some twenty-five years." 

Raised forkbrow in surprise. "That would be quite a sample of data for simple _browsing_." 

Quatre chuckled good-humouredly, and put his tea cup down on the table. "The big span is just a precaution - what we're authorized to dig through, with the requisition papers Lady Une gave us. We're really looking for information regarding a single individual, a former Romefeller member, who appears to have vanished some twenty years ago." 

Dorothy nodded. "Do you have a name?" 

"Ziegler. Herbert Ziegler." 

She mulled on the name for a few seconds. "No, I do not believe I have heard that name before - but then again, it _was_ before my time in observing Romefeller intrigues." She stood up, smirking. "I'll get his membership files from the archives. Which part of his social roster do you want?" 

"All of it," Heero cut in. "We need to know as much as possible about this man, including any and all friends, contacts or business partners he might have had within Romefeller." 

She nodded again. "You _are_ aware the foundation records won't hold much more than what meetings, parties and social events this Ziegler attended? The records kept here usually hold the list of participants, times of arrivals and departures, maybe a topic - it is rare to find even a brief referendum of meetings, let alone-" 

Frown. "We are aware your members kept most of their secrets well hidden. This is just for starters. If we know who he dealt with, we might get the leads we need." 

With a shrug, she walked over to the third door, the only of the trio that was locked. "As you wish. Please, have some more tea. This might take a few minutes." She inserted and turned the key, and was gone, door snapping shut behind her. 

Heero sat down in the chair next to Quatre, and ran a hand through his unruly hair. It was still damp. Quatre chuckled, but cut it short when Heero shot him a glare. The grandfather clock in the corner was allowed to play solo for a while. 

Quatre cleared his throat. "Heero, you really should try some of this tea. It's quite good, and you look like you could use some. No offense." 

Vague grunt. "No thanks." 

Quick glance to the other's arms. "Heero, you're practically shivering, and you have goose bumps. Just admit you're a little cold, it won't hurt you." Cautious smile. "_Not_ admitting it might. Despite your claim, you aren't impervious to sickness. I've heard stories." 

Heero frowned in reply, and briefly tried to glare the friendly smile away. He failed. With a sigh, he took the last tea cup and held it out to Quatre. Soon enough, they both had a brew to sip from. Heero didn't comment it with words, but his body said thanks through the vanishing goose bumps. 

The door to the archive opened, and Dorothy emerged, precariously balancing a stack of thick binders with a manila folder sliding about on top. She kick-locked the door behind her, and walked towards a desk at the far end of the room. Quatre intercepted her, and took some of the binders to ease her load. A huff later, Heero followed suit, albeit taking one more binder, leaving Dorothy with just two. He was first to the far side too, and unceremoniously dumped the binders on the desk plate with a satisfying thump. "Leave the binders, and I'll get started," he ordered as he sat down in the rickety, old office chair. Sensing Quatre was about to object, he amended "We need to search through this quickly - and I work faster alone and undistracted. Any other way would be inefficient." 

Quatre wasn't happy about it, but accepted it as true, in this case. Heero's mind was best suited for this type of machine-like task. He left his binders, and Dorothy followed his example. 

"Are these all of it?" 

She chuckled. "Heavens, no." She handed Heero the manila folder. "This is a copy of his membership record. _Those,_" she pointed at the binders, "are a small selection of the social calendars and meeting logs covering some twenty-five to nineteen years ago. You said he disappeared after that, did you not?" 

Heero nodded. "Fine." And he got started, soon enough distanced from the world around him, entirely focused on the task at hand. 

Dorothy shot Quatre an amused smirk, and got a friendly shrug in return. They left Heero to his pursuits. "Efficient though he may be, that task is bound to take quite some time. Would you care for a friendly game of chess?" Dorothy indicated the chess board set up by the far wall. 

Quatre nodded his acceptance, and they set up the pieces. Dorothy chose black. 

She gave a most sinister smile. "Black never clashes with gold, you see." 

The blond shrugged it off. Dorothy's word games had lost quite a bit of effect over the years - especially following the chaos of their last battle. When someone stabs you for _real_, their words alone have little harmful effect. "Your move." 

And another battle began, slowly at first, a pawn moved so, a more powerful piece thus, a few lost along the way. "Dorothy," Quatre began as he moved a knight forward. "Forgive me, I have to admit I was a bit surprised to see you here - I was under the impression we were to meet an archivist, or a historian, or a-" 

She laughed, positioned a pawn. "Oh, but you _are_, my dear." 

Perplexity. 

Another pawn stepped forward. "You see, although it is not _official_ yet, I have begun working together with this museum to gather a proper record and exhibit of the history of warfare, especially the more recent years. History in the making, and all that. Some time ago a good friend told me to 'quit sulking and stop living in the past'." Smile, eyes momentarily shut. "I suspect she was getting weary of the foul mood I was in at the time." Snicker. "Regardless, I decided to do something about it - and I found a way to keep living in the past, yet be in the present. Our work here might not be appreciated under the current public sentiments, but in time, it will be an important contribution, I'm sure." 

Quatre's already raised eyebrow shaped an even narrower triangle. On the board, he countered her move, preparing his defenses. 

"Oh, is it so hard to believe I have friends, Quatre?" 

His expression softened, and he shook his head. "No - no, not at all. I didn't mean to-" 

She waved him off. On the board, the onslaught began, the black peasant army on the march. "Oh, quite all right. I have grown somewhat fond of being thought... unstable." 

The last word was spoken with such a flat, ill-omened tone that it made Quatre quite uneasy. The black knights cutting into his line of pawns didn't help, despite how he tried getting his rooks in position, and use his bishops to provide badly needed sanctuary for the humble white masses. "Uhm.. Your friend - You mean Relena, right?" 

She nodded, her dark knights continuing the massacre, both surging forward in reckless moves, aided by the few black levies still on the board. "Yes." Cautious smile. "Isn't it strange, Quatre? She and I are so unlike one another, yet we keep drifting together. I'm almost ready to believe there is some truth to the whole concept of 'opposites attract' - my continued friendship with miss Relena certainly suggests as much, does it not?" 

Quatre suddenly realized her plan; the knights weren't attacking his pawns, or even his bishops - they were heading for the king, which had precious little room to maneuver. Dorothy had a slight edge on him now, and she was obviously going to push it. "That may be..." He sighed. "I don't know - maybe opposites still have a lot in common." 

"Oh? How so?" 

He saw a solution, took care of one knight with his queen, saving him from a defeat. "They both care deeply for whatever topic they are at ends over." 

Mild surprise, cackle. The remaining knight avenged his comrade in arms, removing the white queen, only to die at the hands of a vengeful king right after. Her attack was deflected, but Dorothy wasn't much bothered by it. "You may be right, Quatre. You may be right..." She shot a glance over at Heero. Three of the binders had already been put aside, whichever useful scraps of information they had contained now copied into Heero's mind. "Ever the efficient machine. If there was ever someone other than myself who were slow to pick up on the end of all wars, it would have to be him. He still obsesses over his tasks, just as he once did over tactical operations." 

Quatre shook his head, and began his counterattack. With the black knights and all but one pawn gone, his many pieces had room to maneuver - though he made cautious moves. The game was not over yet. "You're wrong, Dorothy. He has changed too - it's subtle, but it's there. I'm not sure exactly _how_ he has changed, but I don't get quite the same _feel_ from him anymore." 

Quirked forkbrow. "Feel? That famed empathy of yours?" 

Their moves were quick now, and the center of the board was their battleground, one piece after another falling. Quatre had an edge in numbers, however, and he used it to the best of his abilities. He smirked, both at Dorothy's comment, and at a new battle plan. The white army advanced. "It isn't empathy. It's more like a strange, intuitive sixth sense. Sometimes, I just pick up these... these auras, and-" 

"Empathy," she flatly stated, valiantly defending her king on the board - though with heavy casualties. 

Quatre chuckled and sent his last two pawns forward, under heavy protection. "If you insist. My point remains, though. He has changed. We all have, in our own ways." 

Dorothy rolled her eyes, tried crushing the little entourage with her remaining pieces, even throwing her king into the effort. "Vague. Philosophic. Utterly unsubstantial." 

It was too late; Quatre's escort had reached the end of the board. "And true." Two farmgirls turned queens, and a few moves later, they had the nearly abandoned black king trapped. "Check mate." 

Snicker. "Perhaps..." She tilted her king, though didn't let it fall, merely moving it around under her fingertip. 

Quatre felt ill at ease with the sudden silence. He turned to the other ex-pilot. "Heero?" 

"Hn?" came the reply, sour and preoccupied. 

"Have you found any leads yet? Anything Dorothy and I can do to help?" 

Sigh within snort. "No, and yes. Be quiet, and don't disturb me." And he went back to his task, making it clear he'd ignore any further attempts at contact. 

Quatre sighed. Dorothy snickered. "So.. what is it you two are _really_ looking for? I take it this Ziegler is a lead, but I can't quite grasp why the Preventers would want someone who hasn't been heard from in nearly two decades." 

Quatre glanced at Heero, as if for guidance in what was too much information to divulge, and what wasn't. Of course, the other didn't notice, and would not have approved of any disturbance. In the end, he figured if Lady Une trusted Dorothy, they should too. "We're looking for a key." 

"A key? What sort of key? Data key card, regular brass key, Rosetta stone, ceremonial key to some city or other...?" 

Quatre grinned, shook his head. "Not quite. Ziegler left a sealed lab behind, and rigged it so we couldn't open it without a key." 

"That must be quite an impressive seal." 

"More like destructive." He bit his lip. 

Dorothy opened her mouth as if to enquire further, but stopped herself. "I see..." 

After momentarily closing his eyes for focus, Quatre continued. "It's not a regular key - it's shaped like a donut - A golden disc with a hole in the middle. It's filled with circuitry and mirrors, designed to interact with a panel in the door in a very peculiar way - that bit is still being researched on by Preventer agents. Also, it can be split apart into twelve distinct pieces, each of which apparently manipulates the current and light differently, apart from having a unique electronic signature. The good doctor split the key apart before he vanished, leaving us to search for not one, but twelve objects. We have found two of the twelve pieces." 

"Intriguing," she said with a slightly bored tone, still toying with the black king. 

Quatre didn't appear to notice. "Ziegler marked each piece with a member of the zodiac. We have the Aquarius and the Leo, and we're hoping to track down the rest. Those two were in the hands of old acquaintances of Ziegler, so we hope that by investigating his ties within Romefeller, we might find leads to more pieces of the key, by finding his friends and associates." 

"Pieces of a hollow circle..." Dorothy muttered as she considered the shape of an individual piece. "And with a symbol of the zodiac on the surface?" 

Quatre nodded. 

She held up a finger. "Wait right there - I think I know-" She stood up, turned to Heero. "Heero, are you done yet?" 

"Almost," came the answer. Heero was busy skimming the last binder. 

"Did you run across the name Webster? David Webster?" 

Heero paused to think. "I'm not sure. Maybe." 

She smiled. "Well, look for it again. I'll go get something, I'll be right back." Before either boy could react, she was out of the room, once more in the archives. Heero glanced at Quatre, got a smile and a shrug in return. With a nearly inaudible grunt, he went back to the binders, Quatre coming over to read over his shoulder, much to his chagrin; it was almost as if the blond inferred he might miss something if left to himself. 

Moments later, Dorothy returned with another manila folder. Triumphantly, she sauntered over to the desk, and placed the folder down, patting it twice. "I _knew_ I had seen something like that before." 

Heero and Quatre shared a glance, then both went for the folder. Quatre got there first by virtue of being closer. Within the dossier was a brief description of one David Webster, some personal information, some relating to Romefeller, a small synopsis of accomplishments worthy of Romefeller's attention - and thus their archives, and most important of all, a photo record. As if neither boy could spot it soon enough, Dorothy tapped a black-and-white picture featuring the same David Webster in full Romefeller regalia, and with one very important detail. To emphasise this, Dorothy reached for a magnifying glass resting on the table, sliding it across the photo. Around David Webster's neck was a triangular shape on a leather strap, and on the shape there was the vague outlines of a young woman, the contour of a bare breast showing. 

"Well, would you look at that..." Quatre mumbled, mesmerized with another discovery. 

Heero was less so, and immediately opened one of the binders, flipped through a good third, and began searching in more detail. Minutes later, he had found an entry. "Here. May 14th, 177 AC - a meeting where both Ziegler and this Webster participated. A few other names too, we'll have to run those by headquarters. Topic says... 'Rosebuds'?" 

Dorothy laughed. "Rosebuds? Let me see." She did so forcibly, tearing the binder away from Heero, and laughed some more. "I can't believe it. Silly old men and their secret societies..." 

"Dorothy, what are you talking about?" Heero asked, more than a little miffed at having the binder ripped out of his hands so easily. 

"It's code. Quite old Romefeller code. It was meant as a joke when it was made, a simple jest to the intricacies and secrecies of other closed foundations. Either one of the participants thought it was clever to use a code, or they did so to make a joke. Either way, it was a silly idea." 

"I take it the code isn't secret?" 

Chuckle. "Hardly. It's historical, and public knowledge - in the relevant circles, that is." 

Frown. "Then why bother with labeling the meeting at all, and recording it?" 

She shrugged. "To extend an open offer of invitation to others within the organization, usually. They may have _wanted_ people to know about the meeting." 

"And what does 'Rosebuds' mean, then?" 

"Financing. It was a fundraising meeting. The code doesn't suggest what for, though." She glanced at the binder again. "I know some of these names. All investors, if I recall correctly. Long-term investors." 

"Long-term?" 

She nodded. "The kind who won't expect a return on their money for several years, or even decades. They have money to burn and time to wait, if there's enough of a profit involved. Two of these were reputed for their gambles in investing. One was lucky. The other one is dead. Suicide, I think. Or euthanasia by loan shark, perhaps." 

Quatre almost instinctively took a step back at her smirk. 

Heero simply shook his head. "Regardless - if this Webster holds one of the pieces, we'll have to pay him a little visit. Do you have his address on file, or-" 

"Oh, but there is a problem," Dorothy interdicted. "As I recall it, the piece of jewellery Webster wore was a grayish white, not golden." Smirk. "I think I know that color well enough to remember when I see it." 

Grunt. 

"Wait, you know him?" 

Impatient sigh. "Yes, Quatre. I know him. _Of_ him, at least. I wish I didn't, but I did have the displeasure of meeting him from time to time." 

"What-" 

"He considered himself somewhat of a playboy, even more so as he aged. Never mind he wasn't anywhere near the kind. He never married - which doesn't surprise me. He suffered from chronic unfaithfulness. The rumors has it he was engaged many times, but each and every one of those engagements were broken before they could be publicly announced in good society. Money is one thing, social stature quite another. He had the nerve to hit on me a few times, too. The last time, he left with a bruised ego and two broken fingers. He did not bother me at social events after that - not that there has been all that many since the war." 

Quatre blinked, shook his head. "Are you sure it wasn't gold-colored?" 

She nodded. "Yes - and he wore it almost religiously, if the rumors are to be believed. He supposedly considered it a good-luck charm in his conquests." Snicker. "Going from his track record, I'd say it was anything but that. Although... I can't remember him wearing it during the last few gatherings." 

Heero grit his teeth. "So, you don't think he has it anymore?" 

"Oh, David Webster doesn't have much of _anything_ anymore - other than peace, perhaps." 

Comprehending frown. "This record doesn't-" 

She shrugged. "When the war was on, much of the updating of records was delayed. The end of the fighting permanently halted most of it. I'm still gathering funds to remedy that, but what's left of the foundation considers other pursuits than their history important. Their own amusement and welfare, for example." She huffed in contempt. 

"So he's dead. Great." 

Snicker. "Only for a few months." She ignored the glare. "Oh, don't be so glum about it, Heero. I'm sure he didn't take the piece of jewellery you seek with him to the grave - although, that would ease your search, wouldn't you say?" 

Quatre intervened before Heero's glare could show _real_ annoyance. "Dorothy, if he left it, hid it or entrusted someone with it - do you have any idea where, or with whom? We really need to-" 

"Actually," she cut him off, "I have a fairly good idea where it is." 

Heero flagged a brow. "You know where- did he give it to you?" 

She shook her head. "No - not directly, anyway. I didn't think of it before, but now it makes sense..." 

"What does?" 

Serene smile. "Oh, he gave a few donations to this museum over the years, some replicas of famed works of art, some genuine. The fakes were quite exquisite, and our experts have had a hard time deciding which was which. I believe it was a practical joke on his part. If there's anything the poor man learned in his quests for companionship, it was that nothing ever came easy." She chuckled. "Not the 'things' _he_ wanted, at least." 

Quatre perked up. "You're saying it's here? The locket is _here_?" 

She shrugged, took a few steps towards the door leading to the main corridor. "Probably. Among the things he provided this museum is a statue, a Venus de Milo. It is probably a fake, and was put in storage for that reason. It is still quite a nice work of art - but it has-" 

"A locket?" 

Nod. "At first, the curators thought it was part of the statue, and thus dismissed the statue as a fake - until a few months ago, when they realized it wasn't made of marble, merely colored and amended to look like it. The amulet itself and the thin necklace it was strung on was attached to the point of being cemented to the statue, but obviously not a part of it. They wished to remove it, but they didn't dare risk harming the statue - since it might be real." 

Quatre wrinkled his nose, searched his memory. "But the real deal is exhibited in Paris, isn't it - at the Louvre?" 

Her smile grew sly. "Yeees..." Brows high. "You think money can't procure stolen art, or exchange the real with copies so good nobody would notice?" 

His eyes shimmered. "You _have_ reported this to the Louvre, haven't you?" 

"Why? We don't know if what we have is the genuine article. Until we do, why cause alarm? If it is fake - which is very likely - we would want to exhibit it as a duplicate. If it's the real thing... Well, we would cross that bridge if we come to it." 

Heero had almost had enough. "So the piece is here, but is stuck on a chunk of marble." 

Laugh. "That should just about sum it up, yes." Again, she ignored the frown. "Oh, come on, boys. We'll find you your little trinket, and a way to loosen it. The chief curator should know exactly where in the storage room the statue is kept. I'll go get him. Oh, and don't make the suggestion of merely chipping the piece off in his presence. He has a weak heart, except for art and history." And with a shrug and a chuckle, she was out the door. 

Heero began to follow, but was held back by Quatre. "Heero, if the statue _is_ real, we have to be careful not to damage it in any way." 

Grunt. "Our objective is to save people, not art." He tore himself free of Quatre's loose grip, but it was too late. Once in the hallway, there were no traces of Dorothy, and several directions and doors to choose from. Not wanting to do nothing, Heero walked through the main arch doorway into the museum, ignoring the exhibits. Quatre was quick to follow. They came to a fork. "You go down that way, I go this way. If you find her, shout." He didn't bother waiting for a reply, or even an acknowledgement. He knew Quatre had heard him well enough, and he knew Quatre would hesitate, but obey. 

And he was right. Quatre opened his mouth to speak to the retreating backside, but simply sighed instead. If nothing else, he would get to glance at whatever artifacts the museum held - he had to admit to himself he was curious. 

Two aisles down, Quatre came upon a side arch with a great banner above it; 'ways of war; pre-historic to present'. From where he stood, he saw showcases with arrowheads, blunt stone axes and other assorted ancient weapons of war. There were plaques all around. Quatre continued down that direction, slowly advancing up through the ages, several sections branching off down other aisles; one for the Roman era, another for Napoleonic times, a separate one for each of the three so-called world wars. The main hall came to an end, and turned off into a final room. He froze in the doorway, gaping, short of breath. 

He must have stood there for several minutes, for he suddenly became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. They were still far down the main aisle, and he reacted immediately, walking towards the sound, knowing it was Heero. He did not want Heero to see this, he decided. Some things were best left forgotten, especially now. Quatre ran to meet him out in the hallway. "Not this way, Heero - it's a dead end. Why don't we-" 

Heero gave him a glare, and walked past him. Quatre hurriedly caught up, and extended both arms to block Heero's path. "You're hiding something, Quatre. What?" 

He relaxed his arms again, glad Heero halted. "Heero, please - let's just go back the way we came. I'm sure-" 

A tight grip came upon his shoulder, almost tossing him aside. Heero strode forward, and made it around the corner before Quatre could even speak. All he could do, was follow, and bear witness. 

Heero was immediately lost in thoughts - a good deal of which resembled nightmares. He stared at the familiar metal face, his jaw loose, making faint attempts at mouthing words, but not finding the air to pronounce anything. The massive skull set up on a column pedestal over by the far wall seemed to grin at him, at least the half that showcased the torn interior, rather than bruised faceplate. He would recognize that face anywhere - that of Wing Zero, left half of the faceplate torn away to reveal the framework and broken circuitry once concealed by gundanium skin. 

Quatre grew concerned. "Heero..." he asked softly, but gained no response. "Heero," he reiterated, a little firmer, put a hand on the other boy's shoulder. He slid down to grab a hold of Heero's arm, tried to pull him out of there, away from the memorial to the past. Heero barely budged at first. At the third attempt, he let himself be dragged out of the way, back into the hallway. 

Even with his back to the grim metallic skull, and around a corner, Heero remained too baffled to speak, a mixture of shock and surprise flooding his mind, not to mention memories tied to that machine. Bits and pieces the zero system had once scrambled now stirred to life again - and it hurt. He clenched his teeth, shook his head, channeled surprise and frustrations into anger and vindictiveness. Quatre gave him a concerned look; almost as if he sensed the change in him. The blond was about to ask when Heero got a target for his rapidly accumulating ire. 

Dorothy approached rather stealthily, smirking. "So, you saw it?" 

Frown. "Dorothy, what the _hell_ is that doing here?! Wing Zero's parts were to be completely destroyed - melted down. I was told - what is _that_ doing-" 

She laughed, which did nothing to cool Heero's flaring temper. "Oh, it was supposed to be demolished - but the Ersach Museum, upon my suggestion, decided to... _negotiate_ with the government about that - and you saw the result." She folded her arms. "As you very well know, only the cockpit was undamaged enough for repairs to even be thought possible. The piece of gundanium, plasteel and ruined electronics in there can't do anything. The circuits are fused beyond anyone's ability to even deduce their exact function - and the head is mostly a sensor package and ornament, anyway. The rest of your suit _was_ melted down, as requested. What's in there isn't a weapon - it's a relic." 

Quatre placed his hand over Heero's clenched fist, lowering it. "Dorothy, why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell Heero?" 

Dismissive shrug. "I didn't feel you needed to know - at least not before the exhibit could open. We wanted to make it a surprise for everyone." 

Heero relaxed a little, uncurled his fists and mellowed his almost snarling frown to merely greatly annoyed. "That it was, if nothing else..." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "I hoped never to see that thing, or any part of it, ever again." 

She smirked. "Well, gentlemen... Surely, these machines which your very lives depended on not long ago, should be expected to feel somewhat like a lost limb, no?" Solitary chuckle. "At the very least, we, three of the four ever to endure prolonged exposure to the Zero command and control system, should know how subtly a machine can engrave itself on the fiber of your being, given the right interface?" 

Heero grunted. Quatre momentarily avoided her eyes. "Still..." Quatre raised his chin. "Still, you should have told us. Technically, the remains of the suit were Heero's. He was to decide what became of them." 

Snicker. "You prove my point, Quatre - 'the remains'? Oh, you boys awarded your machines _souls_, and-" Dorothy stopped herself as a new angle came to her. She straightened a little and took a few calm steps forward. "I'm sorry, Heero," she began softly, "I didn't think you'd react to... the exhibit, as if we had put a friend's head on a pike to show the public." 

Heero closed his eyes for a few moments. It was hard to tell if the trembling eyelids were because of left-over anger or tears wanting out. Whichever it was, Heero had it under control soon enough. "It's only a machine - but you had no right to steal-" 

"I told you, we didn't steal anything. The ESUN government thought it prudent to keep at least a few key artifacts to remind people what the machines of war looked like. A warning, if you like." 

Heero bit his lip, keeping back a few choice words. "It shouldn't be here," he finally mumbled. "It should be obsolete now." He closed his eyes, let a snort in resignation go. "A relic belonging to the past, just like me. We're _both_ obsolete." 

Dorothy merely gave him a puzzled stare. Quatre connected the pieces, however. "That's not true, Heero. Your friends still need you. Your friends will _always_ need you, Heero - and you have many friends. More than you know, I think..." 

Heero glanced at him, but didn't dare give a sarcastic reply. Quatre's eyes were hard and sincere, and they made it quite clear Quatre would hear no argument. He looked to Dorothy next, but saw no reason to rage further against her, either. His own feelings surrounding the - the exhibit he'd just seen - were irrelevant. Maybe Dorothy was right; maybe showing the shattered face of the most powerful mobile suit ever made would show that even giants could fall. Power isn't the ultimate thing. He learned that lesson early in the war, and for that he was glad. To think yourself invincible would only get you killed, in the end. "The statue?" he finally enquired. 

She smirked, opened her mouth to say one thing, paused, and said another. "Of course. Please follow me, gentlemen." 

She led them back through the exhibit, giving the occasional comment on certain displays. Quatre politely kept the conversation from being a monologue; Heero remained silent and glum. Past demons had paid a visit, and he focused on getting rid of them rather than hear Dorothy's opinion on various forms of warfare. There was little new or surprising there, anyway. 

The hallway they followed ended in a great iron double door. Dorothy searched her key chain for another key, and unlocked the large padlock. With some effort, she pushed the doors open, the old metal hinges creaking loudly. "This is the storage room. I suggest you take a deep breath now - in there, there isn't much fresh air." Smirk. "There isn't much fresh of anything in there." 

The boys exchanged looks - a focused frown to a fatigued smile - and followed her in. 

It was a mess. There were crates everywhere, some tightly packed, some open, a few empty. Shelves standing freely on the floor were stacked from floor to ceiling with smaller crates - and in a few cases, artifacts showing to the open. Evidently, these were considered less valuable, to be exposed in such a fashion. 

All of it was meticulously labeled, however - but only a trained eye could actually spot a pattern in the chaos of crates and shelves; the labels never seemed to match properly. Heero had the strangest feeling of deja-vu. 

"And the statue should be right-" They rounded a corner. "Here." 

And there was nothing, except a big, empty square on the floor, dust layer showing recent footprints. There was a faint outline of a large frame in the dust; the footprint of a big cargo crate - but there was no statue. 

Puzzlement. "I don't understand... The professor said-" She sighed, momentarily closed her eyes and shook her head. "He probably gave me the wrong numbers. This _is_ space 54/13-2. I'm sure of that." 

She turned around, brushed shoulders with the boys, and kept going. "Are you coming? You _could_ search every crate here, if you'd like - but there are probably several hundred that are big enough to contain the Venus de Milo statue." 

Quatre shrugged, gave Heero an apologetic smile, and followed. After a quick look-around at the amount of crates to judge Dorothy's words, Heero did too. 

He didn't feel like gaining that many wooden splinters for so little payback, anyway. 

And so, they were back in the museum hallways one more time. At the end of a corridor they arrived at a square-carved door. She knocked twice, and a distracted, stressed voice with merely a minor accent shouted through. "Yes, what is it?" 

She opened the door. "Professor Wordstrom, I brought the guests I spoke of earlier, and-" 

The short, elderly man with bushy gray sideburns and an unbalanced dark hair piece slammed together the sizable tome he was browsing, and glared at the three over the brim of his round spectacles. His annoyed expression broke into a smile in an instant. "Ah, yes, yes, yes - Please, gentlemen, sit down." He waved towards a small wicker couch group tucked away in one corner of the office, stacks of papers and books covering the table. Or perhaps there was no table, merely a big stack of books at the core replacing it as well. It was quite impossible to tell the difference. "So, did you like the statue?" 

Dorothy cleared a seat for herself, the ex-pilots followed her lead. "Professor, we couldn't find it. It was not in storage - at least not where you said it would be. Are you sure you gave me the proper directions?" 

He rubbed his chin, and went over to a cluttered desk at the far side of the room. "I know it's in here _some_where..." He shuffled - or, rather, dug - through the various folders and papers there, and triumphantly brought out a specific one. "Ah, here they are!" He walked over to the others, and sat down, opposite of the pilots, Dorothy on his left. 

"And that is?" Heero asked, a sour impatience to his tone of voice. 

The professor was oblivious, and smiled back. "Oh, these are the documents pertaining to the Venus de Milo statue." He opened it, skimmed the text with his finger, tapped one section of the page. "Here. See, Fraülein Catalonia - I was not mistaken." He pushed the documents over to Dorothy, one finger on the spot marking the statue's location; 54/13-2. 

"So it would seem... But it wasn't there." 

Wordstrom flash-frowned, and skimmed further. A photograph of the statue slipped out, and slid over to Quatre. He picked it up, and looked at it, almost mesmerized. The professor noticed, and grinned. "Beautiful, isn't it? Even if it were a copy, it's breathtaking." 

Honest face. "_Is_ it a forgery?" 

Sigh. "We don't know. Not yet, at least. Not that it matters all that much - even it if were, it would still be a lovely piece - an almost perfect replica, short of the necklace." Chuckle. 

"Fine - but _where_ is it?" Heero impatiently asked. 

"Hm? Oh! Right, right, right." Wordstrom returned to the papers, sifting through a few more. "Ah, here it is. Professor Helmer apparently sent it off to another restoration firm for analysis three weeks ago - 'Schultz & Sohn'. It was scheduled to be returned to storage two days ago, though." He rubbed his chin, mulling it over. "Excuse me, gentlemen, Fraülein." He reached for his phone, checked the folder and dialed the number given. He waited for several minutes, but there was no answer. Resigned, he put a chubby finger on the cradle. "This is peculiar. My pardon, one more call." He quickly dialed another number, though only three digits. An internal call, Heero deducted. 

After two rings, there was an answer. Wordstrom rambled away in accented German, but Heero knew the language well enough to follow most of the conversation. The professor inquired about the statue, naturally, wondering why it hadn't been returned, if professor Helmer knew of any delay, and why this unknown firm had gotten such a fairly prestigious task in the first place. He couldn't hear the direct answers, but the little words Wordstrom barked back made it clear something was amiss. 

More importantly, that what could be considered a bribe was involved. "Vielen Dank, Walter," Wordstrom ended. He turned to the young trio, and gave a sheepish smile. "Well, it seems we awarded the analysis to a relatively new company. Even so, Schultz & Sohn has all the paperwork in order, and evidently, the firm offered the museum a considerable monetary donation in return for being the next to get a look at our Venus de Milo." 

Heero frowned. "But they didn't answer the phone." 

Slight concern came to Wordstrom. "No... But there could be any number of reasons why they didn't answer right now. Maybe they're out to lunch, or some such. Since it is new, it might be a fairly small business. I suggest we wait a few hours, and-" 

"Did you have an address?" 

The curator looked down at the folder. "Why, yes, but-" 

Heero snatched the file, grabbed a pen and a blank piece of paper from the cluttered desk, and hastily copied it down. "Dorothy, do you have a car here?" 

She smirked at him. "Certainly. I'm not yet so reduced in assets I can't afford to keep my preferred method of transportation." She hastily ended her sentence in order to catch up with the boys. Heero had grabbed Quatre's wrist and dragged the blond along back towards the study for their luggage at Dorothy's first word. 

In a matter of minutes, they were heading towards Wagnerstrasse 41B, where the firm Schultz & Sohn was allegedly based. 

------- 

Dorothy's car turned out not to be the monstrosity of a golden limousine she once favored. Instead, the vehicle she led them to was a quite common pale blue four-seater sedan. Quatre expressed surprise. She gave a sly smile and a slight snicker. "You see, this one is far easier to drive through the cramped city streets - and not to mention find a proper parking spot for." 

She told Heero to get the roadmap in the glove compartment and give her directions. Other than Heero's curt announcements of 'left', 'right' or 'straight ahead', and Quatre's cautious reminders of various traffic rules following violations or significantly flexible interpretations of them, the drive was a peaceful, if hurried, affair. 

The pale blue car screeched to a halt at Wagnerstrasse 41B, pulling halfway up on the sidewalk. The street was a small one, and not in the best part of town; quite the contrary. Only a few shops at street level appeared to still be in business. Most were either locked up warehouses or boarded-shut condemned buildings. There was no sign at or above the door, no bright letters spelling out 'Schultz & Sohn' in an arch across the big front window. The exhibit booth directly within was empty, and the red velvet wrinkled and torn in several places. It was not especially inspiring. 

Quatre approached the glass, covered his eyes to block out what little exterior light the rainy skies of Vienna permitted, and peered inside. He saw the broken remnants of a bench in the far corner, a toppled chair in the center of the room. On the far side of the door, there was another counter; an intact one, with an antique cash register mounted on it. A door presumably leading to a backroom was half ajar, but he couldn't see anything through there; the angle was wrong. "Looks abandoned," he informed the others. 

Heero frowned, stepped up to the door and knocked. A minute went by. Dorothy studied the windows of the second floor. Ragged curtains and cobwebs adorned them. Heero knocked at the door again, a little harder. There was still no answer. He outright banged at the door a few times, just to rid himself of frustration. Quatre caught his arm before his fist could make another impact. 

"Don't," the blond stated. "There's nothing here, Heero. Someone obviously used this as-" 

They both heard the racket; the sound of china being broken, stone split, pottery shattered. They had two seconds to think of what they had heard before they heard it again - and then the time for thinking was over. Heero and Quatre exchanged only a brief glance, but it was all it took. "On one," Heero ordered. Quatre nodded. "One!" 

They ran for the door, braced their shoulders and impacted it at the same time. The old wood didn't have time to creak; it shattered. The half-rotten boards around the rusty lock couldn't hold. However, the two boys had expected a slightly tougher resistance, and their own force, along with pieces of the door, made them stumble and fall by the cash register. From the anteroom they heard frantic shuffling, and the creaking of another door. Heero got to his feet, and stormed towards the other room. 

He barely registered the many pieces of broken marble spread out on the floor, or the crowbar that had evidently given the armless lady countless new fractures. Hurriedly stepping through the field of sharp-edged white stone, he made it to the far door; wide open as the perpetrators had left it. A car engine starting. He knew Quatre was right behind him, and pushed on, out the door- 

Crimson car. Two men. Gun, aimed his way. Before he had time to think, his instincts had made him jump back, and the first bullet raced past him, barely a breath away, to lodge itself in the doorframe. A second and third bullet followed, one skidding inside the room and burrowing into the wall, the other speeding down the empty alley. Quatre broke Heero's fall, but the two again tumbled to the floor. Heero felt a slight stab at his arm; one piece of serrated marble had scratched him. _Four stitches_, a cool, detached inner voice from the past informed him. From outside, they heard tires squeal as their suspects drove off. Another voice joined the first, just as calm, chiding him for having grown too lax; for doing something as stupid as running right out of his cover and into an enemy line of fire. Heero ignored both voices as well as the throbbing pain in his arm, and rapidly got to his feet. "Car!" he barked, then pulled Quatre to his feet and dragged him along in the direction of Dorothy's back. He nearly tossed the blond into the backseat, and had only one foot inside the car himself before he shouted "Go!". 

Dorothy obliged; the pale blue sedan raced down the desolate street. Heero reached in between the front seats and grasped at the map, ignoring his bleeding wound. "Where?" Dorothy asked. Without waiting for an answer, she turned right at the first intersection, assuming the alley would end somewhere in that direction. 

"Dark red station wagon, driver, one passenger. Look!" She did, but saw nothing. Heero hastily folded the map at the relevant section, tried tracing where the alley would end- "Next right - and step on it!" 

She did. They were pushed even further back in their seats. Quatre fumbled with his seat belt, but the corner was upon them before he could finish, and he found himself squashed between the door and Heero. Heero hissed in pain as the wound was aggravated further. _Five stitches,_ the inner voice said. "You're bleeding!" the alarmed voice on the outside said. 

"So are you," Heero barked back. "Dorothy, the car?" 

"I can't see- There!" She pointed at the far end of the street; the tail of a crimson station wagon veered left. She hit the gas pedal again, dodged trash cans and other motorists as she saw fit, and left dents and bruises where need be. 

Quatre quickly checked his own injuries. Sure, he'd taken a few scratches by that fall to the floor, but they were barely more than grazes. From what he could see, Heero had a fairly deep cut. "Dorothy, first aid kit?" 

She shook her head. "Don't have one. Hold on." She hit the breaks, let go, made a sharp turn threatening to send them into a tumble, but thankfully falling back to all four wheels as she straightened out and raced in pursuit of the other vehicle. 

Heero checked the map, tried to figure if there was a shortcut, an upcoming road block, anything that might give them an advantage. He barely registered the sound of tearing fabric, but winced as the same remnant of a silk shirtsleeve was wrapped around his wound. He scowled at Quatre's apologetic smile. 

"It won't hold for long, but-" 

"Thanks," Heero offered, and returned to his maps. Quatre obstructed the task as he reached across him. "Hey, what-" 

Demonstratively, he pulled Heero's seatbelt down and fastened it, grinning. "If you won't consider your own safety, then I guess I have to." Then, he quickly fixed his own belt. Dorothy's pale blue eyes shone in the rear view mirror. The pure joy they showed sent shivers down Quatre's spine. 

"All buckled up, boys? Then I won't hold back any longer." And she didn't; roaring the engine to new heights. The next turn was nowhere near as comfortable as the previous two - but at least the seatbelts did what they could to keep them in place. They were gaining, but not by much. Even on this dark and rainy afternoon, the streets were fairly crowded. Dorothy dodged her way through the cars and trucks alike, the red car ahead struggling to do the same. Heero had grown slightly pale, possibly due to blood loss. Quatre had also gone pale, but almost entirely from Dorothy's reckless driving. With a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, she saw both faces, and laughed. "There is nothing like the morning and afternoon rush hours to teach you how to drive aggressively, gentlemen." She slid through to the other lane to the angry horn of a semitrailer. 

Another intersection, down an avenue. Dorothy took the turn a little early, and they ended going down the wrong lane. Dorothy swiveled through the oncoming traffic as best she could, honking the horn whenever she could spare a hand from steering. They were still gaining. 

Quatre struggled not to gnash his teeth when a thought struck him. "Heero, those men were armed! We don't have weapons - how are we supposed to-" 

Adrenaline gave the answer. "Ram." 

The blond chewed air. "You're not serious." 

Sharp glare. 

"You're _serious_..." 

Cackle from the front seat. "Too late to jump out now, mister Winner." They skidded in between two sedans; one side mirror torn off in the process. "Oops." 

Grunt. "Your car." 

At last, they reached another intersection. Dorothy brought them over in the right lane, still a little distance behind the art thieves, still gaining- Heero saw the muzzle of a gun. "Down!" The first bullet they didn't even hear; it slammed into the engine of a truck behind them. The second impacted their windshield, cracking nearly all of it into white obscurity. Dorothy covered her face with one hand, hit the breaks. To her credit, she didn't panic and let go of the steering entirely. However, it was enough to make her lose control for a precious moment, and that was all it took for the truck behind them to close the distance, hit, spin them around and send them off to the side, where another car hit them head-on. Thankfully, both impacts had been at fairly slow speeds, but the car was close to a wreck, the trunk crumpled up like an accordion, and the left front tire bent out of shape, along with the left front - but the passenger cage was almost intact. 

The three just breathed for a while. Quatre made a mental checklist of his body parts, ensuring they were still all there. Dorothy let loose a grin and a small cheer. Heero frowned, and nearly growled. "We lost them." He unbuckled his belt, slammed his fist to the headrest before him. "Damn it! We lost them!" 

Dorothy turned to them with a smirk, ignoring the motorists and passers-by gathering around their wreck. "Mister Yuy, I would appreciate it if you didn't vandalize my car." 

Quatre broke out smiling, and started laughing, unable to halt either. Noticing Heero's transitory puzzlement and consequent frown didn't help matters. Whatever the crowd around them thought, it couldn't be good - but surviving always is; and it's an eternal cause of joy - while it lasts. The laughter lived on as sirens approached. 

------- 

"Now, hold still, _bitte_," the doctor ordered. 

Heero obliged. While they'd been lucky to escape from the car crash with as little injury as they had - and even more fortunate to escape penalties for the damages and reckless driving they had accumulated during their little chase, they had lost the Virgo amulet to- He thought about it for a second. To the enemy - whomever the enemy were. They would have to find out, and when they did, retrieve the piece. They needed all of them, after all. 

"Done," the doctor said, fastening the bandages. "You will have to change this regularly," he chided with his slight German accent. "You would also be wise to avoid stress in the near future." 

Heero nearly smiled at that. Oh, that would be easy - especially when Lady Une found out about all this. Losing the locket was bad enough. To get the insurance claims for their little joyride on the budget would not make matters better; quite the contrary. He said his thanks, and left. 

In the waiting room, he found his friends. Quatre and Dorothy had also been treated for nicks and bruises, as evident by various Band Aids, scattered so liberally they almost looked like a kind of Indian war paint at a distance, against all traditions applied after the battle rather than before. 

"Any leads?" he asked Dorothy. 

She shook her head. "I gave the local police all the information they could safely have - an art theft gone wrong, officially - but they haven't found anything - that is, they haven't found the amulet or the thieves. They found the car at a parking garage near the main bus depot. With our vague descriptions of the perpetrators, and the low classification of the crime, they can't very well close off and screen all public transportation." 

Heero nodded. "That's to be expected. They're as good as gone, then. We can't afford to make this matter public." 

Dorothy consented. "Any idea who they were?" 

Heero sat down between Quatre and Dorothy. There was ample room. "Not really - though, there was that incident back on L2..." 

"Think it's the same group?" 

Shrug. "Maybe. These guys seemed more... tenacious. Maybe it's all coincidences." Frown. "I hope Sally and Duo have found Wufei - I have a feeling he has some answers." 

Quatre nodded. "Or we might get them from his kidnappers. Either way, something odd is definitely going on here." 

"There's a leak in the agency. Or several." 

Nod. 

"Have you contacted Lady Une yet?" 

Quatre shook his head. "I tried, but she was still out of reach. She hasn't reported back since she and Trowa left L1." Sigh. "I hope they're okay..." 

Snort. "Those two could survive anything. One got a bullet through her chest and lived, the other survived an attack from Wing Zero's buster rifle, and floated around in space as debris for a while." 

The blond looked like he'd just sucked on a lemon. "Don't remind me..." 

Heero shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We'll head back to Headquarters, and gather the rest of the team there. I think we need to have a talk - coordinate our efforts. Dorothy, would you-" 

"Keep investigating from this end?" 

Curt nod. 

She sighed, slumped her shoulders a little. "I suppose... It will probably be quite droll, compared to whatever adventures you two are in for." Smirk, snicker. "Then again, I suppose being here will be much safer, and far more comfortable. I _would_ ask for you to keep me posted, but-" 

"We can't do that." 

Nod. "Yes, I know. You need to tighten security, and I'm not likely to get a clearance as a Preventer field agent any time soon - the ESUN President doesn't think too highly of me, for some reason." 

Quatre gave her a concerned glance. "He disapproves of your history?" 

Dorothy shrugged, pushed a stray whisker of blonde back where it belonged. "There's that, I suppose - and being rather frank with him on politics during the last social event we crossed paths at probably wasn't too wise." Smirk. "But it was _very_ satisfying. For a man that appears to be fairly bright, he has surrounded himself with quite a few bad advisors. I tried to give him a more... _balanced_ view of things." 

Heero gave a very slight smirk of courtesy, and got to his feet. "We'd better get going, Quatre." 

The blond nodded his agreement, got up and started walking down the corridor. "I'll make another call." 

Frown. 

"Look, there's no harm in using regular Preventer channels to gather our little group. Our enemy knows about us now, obviously - and they have to know we suspect infiltrators. Also-" 

"Fine," Heero cut in. "Make the call - make sure Headquarters tells the others to gather there ASAP. We need to talk." 

Quatre nodded, and went on his way. 

"Dorothy, you realize-" 

She straightened up a little and covered one hand with the other. "That I'm not likely to find any trace of the thieves? Why, yes, I understand that - but they destroyed the Venus de Milo statue, and for that I wish compensation. I'm sure a study of the pieces will find it to be a fake, but it was still an exquisite fake, and quite the potential source of income for our little museum. I do not take this matter lightly." She narrowed her eyes, and it took little imagination to see pillars of fire within them. 

Heero nodded, expression stern. "No rash actions. This is still a Preventer operation, not your most recent vendetta." 

Momentarily baffled, she broke out in soft laughter. "Intriguing point of view, Heero. Very much so." She composed herself into stiff formality. "As you wish. I will merely search for the bullies, and let the judicial system, flawed and cumbersome as it is, handle the rest." 

Heero was about to retort, when Quatre came jogging back to them. "Heero, Dorothy - Lady Une has been in touch with headquarters, and basically requested the same thing we wanted. She didn't say anything in specific to the switchboard, but I get the impression we aren't the only ones to have encountered the enemy." 

Scowl. "A coordinated effort?" 

"Or multiple enemies. Either way, it's bad." 

Heero nodded, and began walking down the corridor, Quatre in tow. "Then let's not waste time." He looked over his shoulder. "Keep us posted, Dorothy." 

She stood up. "I will - best of luck, gentlemen." She waited until they were out of earshot before adding a mumble; "...but if you're not hasty, I might have to renege my promise." She momentarily relaxed, uncovered and untangled the crossed fingers on her right hand, pumped her fists twice, and went to conduct her own investigation. 

* * *

-end Virgo-   
-TBC- 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
